Three Little Words
by brunetta6
Summary: In the frigid grip of a mysterious summer blizzard, Wendy begins to experience strange visions and explore the truth of how she and Dipper truly feel about each other. Meanwhile, an ancient demon linked to two of Gravity Falls's most horrific historical events will rise, a long-forgotten love will be revealed, and three little words will decide who lives... and who is consumed.
1. I Love You

**Hello, ducklings, long time no see… oh wait. This is the first Gravity Falls fic I'm posting. Okay, hi Gravity Falls on ! So, storytime, this fic got really popular on my tumblr account and people were constantly saying "Hey, you should upload this somewhere!" and I finally decided to do it.**

 **There are pictures and stuff that I draw for these chapters, too. I'll put links at the bottom. And YES, THIS IS A WENDIP FIC! It's not the primary focus of the entire story, but it does play a part.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1:**

 **I Love You**

 _All she could see was darkness. Water roared in her ears, bursts of pain bloomed inside her skull. She felt herself smack into a rock, and even the faint shadows dissolved to flat black. A deep voice echoed. "HOW DO YOU LIKE MY TRUE FORM!"_

" _Hit him with the axe!" Dipper yelled._

" _Don't listen to him, Wendy!" Dipper screamed._

 _Her eyes flicked between the two boys, the handle of her axe wet with stale, freezing water and the horrible, molding smell of the bunker. "I-I don't know who's who! Give me a -!"_

 _"THIS WILL BE THE LAST FORM YOU'LL EVER TAKE!"_

 _The dream flashed, and suddenly a small hand lay, cold and lifeless, in a pool of still-cooling blood on the floor of the cave. The girl felt her heart plummet as she fell to her knees, eyes locked on the image of the heavy, dirty steel blade buried deep in Dipper's skull. She wasn't piloting her own body anymore. She was LAUGHING._

 _She was the Shapeshifter._

Wendy gasped awake, dripping in cold sweat.

Panting hard, she stared at her clock. The glowing numbers read 2:48 AM.

Her hands flew to her covers only to find them missing; her thrashing had taken the sheets almost completely off the bed, snagged by the base of her bedframe and piled on the floor like a crumpled body…

A whine of distress escaped her throat. Wendy snapped the lamp on, disentangled her feet from what was left of her covers, and pulled them up to her chest, ducking her head from the mocking, empty corners of her room. It had only been two days since their horrific expedition into the bunker, and the image of the Shapeshifter – the darkness, the fear, the fury, the darkness of the underground – had been haunting Wendy.

" _ **Remember, whatever happens down there, we tell no one."**_

The redhead shivered, teeth clenched so tight they creaked. She had given her word not to talk about the bunker, and she hadn't… but the dreams were getting worse. Normally this kind of thing didn't happen! Stuff that didn't happen but could have? It usually didn't bother her! But it had been the same thing last night, and tonight… Normally she could talk to Tambry about things that were stressing her out. But not this time. She couldn't _tell_ anyone! She had promised! Besides, who would listen? Soos would listen but he hadn't been there, with the axe and the book. Same with Mabel! Who would believe her about these nightmares?

Besides the one that had been there too…?

 **.o.O.o.**

Dipper nearly had a heart attack when he heard the phone ring at nearly three o' clock in the morning.

His first reflex was to immediately turn off his flashlight and be as quiet as possible and pretend he wasn't there; Mabel had kicked him out of their attic room who-knew-how-long ago, complaining that his incessant reading was keeping her awake and she needed her "beauty rest." And if Grunkle Stan found him reading the journal in the bathroom at 3 AM he was history! Forgetting that his pajama pants were actually down and his butt was completely numb from the cold, hard seat, the latter reason was what sent him sprawling onto the tile floor in his hurry to answer it – or rather, stop it from ringing so loudly! He tripped down the stairs, tiptoed around that squeaky spot in the floor, ducked under the swinging doors, and snatched the phone off the hook.

"Omigoshdoyouevenknowwhattimeitis?!" Dipper demanded in a heated whisper, clasping the journal over his pounding heart. "Who is this?"

"D-Dipper?"

The boy blinked, his heart skipping a beat. "Wendy?"

A sigh came through in a burst of static. "Hey, Dipper…" murmured the older girl. "I'm sorry it's so late –"

"Early."

"Whatever."

Something in Wendy's tone made him hesitate. "It's okay…" he whispered uncertainly. "I guess… I was already awake? Um, hold on a second."

Dipper put his hand over the receiver, looking warily around the dark souvenir shop. Eyeballs and glass and all the freakish, haphazardly-glued sculptures gleamed in the moonlight from the window. He grimaced and set down the phone on the counter; he always hated it in here at night. It was creepy.

He went into the living room, pulling the cordless phone out of its cradle, and hit the TALK button. "Okay, I'm back, um…" he went back into the shop to hang up the other one, grabbed his journal, and tiptoed quickly back up the steps. "You do know it's, like, super late…?"

* * *

On the other end, Wendy rubbed her face and sniffed, smiling halfheartedly at the familiar sound of Dipper's voice. "I could say the same for you."

"I was, um… reading. What, uh, what's up?" the boy whispered.

"I…"

Wendy hesitated, her mouth open – and groaned, rubbing her forehead. "You know that feeling you get when you want to say something, but when it actually comes to getting the words out, you just… blank?"

Silence.

"…A-Are you still there?" the redhead asked. She was privately horrified to hear her voice actually break.

"What? O-Oh. Yeah, I'm still here!"

The amount of relief that washed over the older girl was so powerful it was embarrassing. "I'm sorry, man, I just…" Wendy whispered, biting her lip. "I… I had a nightmare. About the whole bunker thing. It's pretty brutal and it's been sort of a regular thing, I just… I need to talk to someone about it and Soos and Mabel were there too but they weren't _there_ … you know? With the axe and –?"

* * *

Dipper blanched. "Oh my gosh, Wendy, I…"

* * *

The pure terror in his voice made her curl up even tighter. "God, what're you doing, Dipper?! You're supposed to be making me…!"

She blinked, cutting herself off before she finished. _You're supposed to be making me feel_ _ **better**_ _…_

Meanwhile, Dipper had gone quiet on the other end of the phone. "I'm sorry…"

"It's not your fault, man…"

* * *

"No, it _is_!"

The boy pressed his back to the bathroom door, moaning in distress as he slid to the floor. "I was the one that invited you," he muttered, talking more to himself now. He hung his head in shame. "And now you're having nightmares about it. I'm sorry… I shouldn't have—"

* * *

"That's not the PROBLEM, Dipper!" Wendy barked furiously, sitting straight up in bed. Her fist pounded into her blankets. "And don't ever say you shouldn't have invited me!"

* * *

Dipper jumped at her tone, eyes wide. "Wait, wh—?!"

* * *

"If you hadn't you… you'd REALLY BE DEAD!"

The redhead curled in on herself, hot tears welling up and spilling over. Her phone was away from her face now – clenched in her fist – but Dipper could still hear her desperate attempts to silence her crying, harsh hiccups and swearing, the muffled slide of angry hands on her cheeks. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, but before he could say anything Wendy had brought the receiver back to her mouth. "Don't ever be dead, Dipper…!" she choked, sniffing and dashing away tears that just kept coming. "I don't want to ever… not see you again! I want to talk with you! I want to be with you! I _need_ you, man! So… please, don't ever…!"

* * *

The harsh prickle of tears threatened Dipper's composure.

The boy swallowed again, eyes wide and staring blindly into the shadows around him, blinking hurriedly in an attempt to fend off that dreaded pressure. He had assumed her dream had been him with the axe, but choosing the wrong Wendy to swing the blade into.

Apparently… that wasn't the case.

"I won't, Wendy," Dipper whispered.

His solemn vow echoed emptily in the bathroom. "I won't ever leave you, not of my free will. I will always be by your side, however and wherever you need me. Whether you need me as a friend, or… anything else…"

* * *

Wendy knew the words were hollow. She knew that not even this boy - the most incredible, smart, awesome, intuitive, fun, quirky boy she had ever met, no matter his age – could promise that. The world would take him to different places than it would take her. Whatever this summer held in store, whatever was happening in Gravity Falls, the lives that were held in the balance? Dipper had no control over it. They both knew that.

But still, he had promised. And so, she replied.

"I know…" Wendy whispered.

* * *

Dipper felt his stomach twist with nerves. "Do you? Do you know?"

* * *

"…Yeah… I do. I know you'll never leave me," she murmured. With every word, she felt her chest warm up, filling with an odd, inexplicable sense of peace. Her eyes fell closed, her lashes gently brushing freckled cheeks. "I know you'll always be there for me. I know you trust me. I know…"

She hesitated – and then remembered, she didn't need to pretend.

"…I know you'll always love me…" Wendy finished, her cheeks and neck warm with flush.

"W-Wendy?!"

"Yeah…?"

* * *

Dipper practically vibrated with tension, his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. "You…"

"Me?"

"I…"

The boy swallowed – and lost his courage.

He wilted, sighing, and let his head fall against the door with a resigned thump. "It's late… we should go to bed…"

"Dipper?"

Dipper opened his eyes wearily, suddenly exhausted. "Yeah?"

"I don't take back what I said before," came the hushed voice of the girl he still loved. His heart sunk a bit lower. "But you know there's more than one kind of love… right?"

"You're talking about platonic…"

* * *

Wendy blinked. For some reason… this didn't feel exactly right anymore. Platonic wasn't the right word, it… it was something else. Something more…

"Yeah," she murmured uncertainly. "Sure, that's what I – yeah."

"Good night, Wendy."

The redhead sat up, her heart pounding in alarm. "Dipper?"

* * *

Dipper barely opened his eyes, feeling like there was a hole opening in his chest. "What?"

* * *

Wendy swallowed.

"…I love you."

The older girl wasn't prepared for the sensation those words would give her. Instead of the anxiety she had always envisioned that it would bring, saying that to a boy, now, those words felt natural in her mouth. So natural, and _nice_ , to say those three little words to him. It didn't feel like she was saying it to her brother. It didn't feel like she was saying it to a friend, either. It felt like something she hadn't known she'd wanted to say.

And _that_ was what terrified her.

" _W-Wendy…?_ "

"Good night!" Wendy replied weakly, and hung up. She clasped her phone tight to her pounding chest and fell back, staring up at the ceiling in utter mortification – her face and neck, even the tips of her ears bright pink and burning.

* * *

Dipper blinked, his cheeks practically glowing red in the dark. A myriad of emotions ran through him; confusion, disbelief, a little nausea, confusion, happiness, a _lot_ of confusion… but hearing those three little words filled him with a thrill like he'd never felt before. His stomach fluttered like they were filled with angry butterflies as he wobbled downstairs to put the phone back, then returned to the attic. His heart and mind were spinning, warring against each other.

The twelve-year-old fell into bed, images of Wendy flooding his mind. "Oh no…" he moaned, covering his burning face.

The crush was back.

Or maybe it had never even _left…_

* * *

Wendy groaned, everything that she'd ever thought of Dipper finally coming together into a cohesive whole. The big picture of what she felt was all too clear. "…Oh NO…!" she whispered, her cheeks practically sizzling as she pulled her sheets over her head and hid from the world.

For the first time, the crush was mutual.

 **.**

 **.**

 **Aaaaand here are the art links! I'm Brunetta6 on deviantart. All the ones for the first few chapters are old pieces, might redo those this summer or something. Reviews would be great, as I'm sure ya know!**

 _art/TLW-Chapter-1-She-was-the-Shapeshifter-591328371_

 _art/TLW-Chapter-1-If-You-Hadn-t-You-591328955?ga_submit_new=10%253A1455684683_


	2. Some Well-Meaning Advice

**Just a heads up, these first couple chapters are going up quickly because they were already written. Once I hit Chapter 8, updates will come slower, probably pretty irregular. I AM in college, y'know. Anyway. Here's the second chap~**

* * *

 **Chapter 2:**

 **Some Well-Meaning Advice**

"So then I was like 'no way,' and he was all like, 'yes way!' And I was just over here like 'ugh,'" Robbie drawled, an arm hanging lazily around his girlfriend. "Y'know?"

Tambry didn't even look up from her phone. "Totally."

 _Ding!_

The girl frowned, squinting down at the text message that had just come in.

"…Hey, Robbie, I gotta go for a little bit," she told him. She got up, putting her purse over her shoulder and setting off. "I'll see you for lunch, kay?"

"Uh, okay. Where ya going?"

"Mystery Shack," Tambry shrugged, already halfway out of earshot. "Wendy wants to talk about something but can't escape."

It was a bright, sunny afternoon, the smell of crushed pine needles and wisteria floating down from the mountains as the girl walked and texted at the same time; even someone who didn't know her could see she'd had practice with that particular set in multitasking. Concrete sidewalks turned to dirt under her boots, and about ten minutes later Tambry was walking through the front door of the local souvenir shop. Wendy didn't even turn to look when the little brass bell clanged and her friend stepped in. Her eyes were tired, distracted, and very far away, staring into an empty patch of air just over the clock.

"Earth to Corduroy."

The redhead blinked lazily, finally looking over. "Huh? Oh!"

Wendy perked up, smiling at first and then that stressed line forming between her eyebrows again. "Hey, Tambry. Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes!" she laughed nervously.

"You wanted to chat about something?" the other girl asked, dropping her bag on the counter and sitting up on it. She pulled out her phone again, resuming her texting.

"Yeah, um…"

Wendy frowned, then looked around for Stan. "Sorry, Mr. Pines has been popping up every time I try to leave," she muttered. The redhead sighed wearily and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, like she was trying to ward off a headache. "I don't know why he's so attentive today of all days!"

"Could be the July blizzard that's got him on edge," Tambry commented. "You know how old people's joints go out during cold weather."

"Blizzard?"

Both girls looked over at Dipper. He was peeking out from behind a shelf – a big box in his arms – a curious look in his dark eyes. "But it's the middle of the summer!" he exclaimed.

Tambry snorted. "Yeah. That's why I called it a July blizzard."

Dipper blinked, startled. He looked like he was about to say something, but an excited screech from upstairs made them all jump. Mabel came tumbling down the stairs, grinning so widely it looked like her face was going to split in half. "SNOW?! IN JULY?! DIPPER!"

She grabbed her twin and shook him around. "WE CAN ACTUALLY HAVE CHRISTMAS IN JULY!"

Dipper stared at her incredulously. "Mabel!"

Wendy's brows shot up the look on his face. "Wait, wait, what?" she grinned. "Now you gotta tell us!"

The younger boy scrambled to keep his sister from talking, but that never worked. Mabel ran over to the counter, eyes shining. "When we were younger, we loved Christmas so much we decided to have it twice a year!" she told Wendy. "We'd turn the air conditioning WAYYYYY up and we'd wear our dad's horrible Christmas sweaters and decorate our rooms with lights and drink frozen hot cocoa and watch every Disney movie in the house! There was mistletoe and turkey dinners and everything!"

"Until mom and dad decided we were _too old_ for that," Dipper muttered "We were like, six. And getting the air conditioner to make it that cold in the summer must've cost a ton."

"Oh, shut up! You know you loved it~!" Mabel grinned, pushing her twin.

The boy stumbled; an embarrassed flush reddened his cheeks as he quickly walked away to resume his task of loading the shelf with cheap snow globes, avoiding Wendy's eyes. The redhead blinked, then hurriedly looked back at Mabel. She tried to continue with her happy, curious tone, but Tambry caught the brief hesitation and frowned. "Anyway, it was awesome!" Mabel said.

"What the heck is frozen hot cocoa?" Tambry deadpanned.

"Sounds rad!" Wendy smiled.

"It is! I'll get you the recipe!" Mabel told them, running out the door. "Oh, I can't wait to tell Candy and Grenda! We're gonna party SO HARD! HAHAHA!"

The screen door slammed behind her.

Dipper hesitated. He glanced at Wendy.

The older girl noticed, but she pretended not to. "So! Tambry!" she said loudly. Dipper swallowed and put another snowglobe on the shelf, keeping his eyes down. "What'd you come here for? Just came to keep me company?"

Tambry looked at the normally inquisitive boy, then squinted suspiciously at Wendy. "…Sure."

"Well, we should probably talk outside! Hey, Dipper?"

The boy looked up, eyes wide. "Um. Yeah?"

Wendy gave him a little smile and shrug. "If Stan comes around asking for me, tell him I went to the bathroom, kay? Thanks!"

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Tambry's wrist, crossed the room, and opened the curtain to reveal the ladder to her roof hangout. She climbed up. The other girl raised her eyebrows, but followed.

They pulled up the ladder behind them. _Slam!_

Dipper flinched.

* * *

The two girls climbed over the back of the roof and sat on the lawn chair, keeping cool under the shade of the umbrella…

And then the storm was unleashed.

"Oh god, Tambry, I don't know how to even start talking about this absolute shitpile I'm in!"

Tambry sighed and put her phone away. She reached into the cooler, cracked a soda, handed it to Wendy, and started soothingly braiding the redhead's long hair. "Calm down and start from the beginning."

Wendy chugged the soda, huffed, and crushed the can against her head, tossing it at the totem pole. "Okay, okay. So, um…"

She glanced back at her friend. "You know how Dipper had this, like, massive crush on me?"

Tambry raised an eyebrow.

 **.o.o.**

Meanwhile, Dipper glanced worriedly up at the closed trapdoor, then down at the cheap souvenir in his hand.

" _ **Dipper?"**_

 _ **He barely opened his eyes, feeling like there was a hole opening in his chest. "What?"**_

 _ **Silence. The boy frowned uncertainly. Had the call dropped? He opened his mouth, about to repeat himself – when those fatal words came through the phone with such startling clarity he knew he couldn't have misheard them…**_

" _ **I love you."**_

Dipper huffed and shook his head, as if he could dislodge the memory from his head, and put another snow globe on the shelf. There was literally no way Wendy would've meant that other than platonically. She had said so herself!

 _But then what was the deal with the quick hang up, huh?_ said a little voice in the back of his head.

The boy scowled and waved that away. Instead, he sat down, ignoring the snow globes for the moment in favor of opening Journal 3 for the first time since last night, rifling through the pages for any mention of a summer snowstorm. He spotted something brief in the index – a reference to 'seasonal phenomena' related to _'wendigo'_ – and opened it to the page. The boy didn't get very far, though. Each time he tried to read, he had forgotten the words by the time he got to the middle of the page and had to start over.

After a minute of trying, he sighed, marked it, and put it back into his vest. For once, he wasn't in the mood to read about monsters.

 **.o.O.o.**

"So, what you're saying is he finally worked up the courage to tell you he liked you, so you sorted it all out and told him you'd stay friends. And he seemed okay with it. That's a good thing."

"Yeah, but then I ruined _everything_ by telling him I love him! Over the _phone_ , of all things!" Wendy moaned. The fifteen-year-old was laying with her back on the lawn chair and her hips hanging off the edge, only held aloft by the force of her tensed legs. "This is super weird and dumb and annoying because the absolute worst part about this is that I don't understand how I MEANT it! Because I did mean it!"

"Then why'd you tell him you loved him in the first place?" Tambry asked, perched at the very edge of the chair.

Wendy sat up – landing on her butt on the floor - and pulled at the stuck tab of another can of cola. "He was about to hang up and, like, he seemed like he was really upset and then I got upset that he was upset and that was the first thing that came out!"

"'I love you' was the first thing that came out?" her friend scoffed.

"It was the only thing that seemed to fit what I wanted to… express! Tell him, I mean! Oh, I don't know!"

"Okay, so, just tell the half-pint you meant that you love him like a brother," Tambry shrugged. "That's the only way you could've meant it, right?"

Wendy frowned – then crossed her arms. "Look, don't take this the wrong way but can you… I dunno, not call him a half-pint?" she ventured, looking at her friend. "It's kinda rude. And, he's… well, he's a lot braver and more mature than anyone gives him credit for…"

Tambry stared at her. "Since when do you care what's rude?"

"The guy saved our lives at that haunted convenience store and, like, he's been through some situations that people twice his age wouldn't have the balls to deal with! Would it kill to not call him names behind his back?!" Wendy shot back, throwing her hands up in distress.

"Jeez, jeez, okay, calm down…" the other girl muttered, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Ugh, I'm sorry…"

"It's okay."

"I'm just really weirded out by this whole situation!"

The purple-haired girl blinked, then stared at her friend incredulously. "Wait… hold on. This whole time, you have _not_ been actually saying that you… LIKE like that half-p–?!"

Wendy shot her a glare. "Dipper!"

"Omg, fine! Dipper! Whatever!" Tambry barked. "You literally _cannot_ be saying that you think you're developing romantic feelings for a _twelve-year-old!_ "

"Okay, before you say anything else your parents are, like, four years apart."

"Uh, yeah, but they met in their twenties, Wendy! This? This is _weird_!"

The redhead jumped to her feet. "You think I don't know that?!" she shouted, fists coiled as she began to pace in agitation. "I thought you'd be able to understand that I _have_ actually thought all this through! I've looked at it from every angle! I don't _want_ to like like him! It presents so many freaking problems! That and I've been through way too many boys, Dipper's too great of a friend for me to –!"

"Okay, Wendy? I want you to listen to me."

Tambry got up, grabbed Wendy's shoulders, and forced her to stop pacing and look her in the eyes. "I'm going to overlook the freaky reality that what you find wrong with this situation is the idea that he's 'too great of a friend' to think of romantically with your dating history–"

The redhead interrupted. "But that's just the thing, Tambry, see–"

The goth girl interrupted. "No, no, no. Wendy, stop thinking about this. I might be supportive of this if he was fourteen, maybe even thirteen–"

"Dude, he will literally be thirteen at the end of the summer, how the heck does a 'teen' label help him be more subject to anyone's approval?!" Wendy demanded, cutting her off for the second time. "I understand how you're feeling, I really do, but seriously, what are the reasons I shouldn't think of him that way?"

"He's TWELVE!"

"No, it's not because he's twelve, it's because he's the subject of twelve-year-old stereotypes! Listen…"

Wendy counted off on her fingers, her voice adapting the tone of a well-rehearsed speech; something deduced that she'd replayed a hundred silent times in her head at five in the morning. "Stereotype number one, 'he's twelve, he's immature!' Wrong. Dipper is more mature than a lot of teenagers old as or older than us! 'He's twelve, he's dumb!' I've met eighteen-year olds less intuitive and smart than he is. 'He's twelve, he's a –!'"

"He's still a kid! Like, physically. It's not like you two can…"

"Why would I be attracted to a skinny twelve-year-old body? Now _that'd_ be weird," Wendy grimaced. "But I'm not talking about bodies! And while we're at it, take your parents! The age gap isn't gonna matter when we're, like you said, in our twenties! Not to say the physical aspect of a relationship isn't important in the _long_ run… but he'll be up like a bean sprout soon, and in the meantime, when does being a few months short of your thirteenth birthday make your feelings any less worthy of being considered? When physical appeal comes before mental or emotional appeal it always ends in disaster, no matter what age you are. You _have_ to agree with that. Back to the physical side of things, it might be different with other people, but for me, sex literally is not worth the hassle and heartbreak that happens if things don't work out! I've been a year without it, I'd gladly go another one!"

Tambry wrinkled her nose. "Ew. Don't talk about your sex life in the same conversation as twelve-year-old stereotypes, Wendy."

"I _knowwww!_ My god, just _listen_ to me! It's unbelievable!" she whimpered shamefully, head falling into her hands.

The purple-haired girl stared at Wendy, brows furrowed in concern and her brain churning from all the information she'd just been privy to. One of – if not the most – level-headed, chill members of the female gender she knew was really going through a crisis, if she had spent this much time thinking about it. Wendy rarely stressed over anything concerning relationships, and certainly not the shortstack of a boy that was bustling around somewhere under their feet.

"This is… pretty serious, isn't it?" Tambry thought aloud. "For you. This is, like, existential crisis-level."

Wendy sucked in a breath and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Oh, don't over exaggerate…" she muttered. "I just love him. It's not like I'm _in_ love with him…"

"What's the difference?"

The redhead released the breath she was holding, took her hands down, and squinted down at the dirt yard far below. "That's actually a really good question…" she sighed. "I don't know, I just know it's not as bad as it could be."

"Scale of one to ten?" Tambry asked.

"One being 'um he's got a great personality' and ten being 'literally marry me tonight'?" Wendy replied, just to make sure of their usual count. The other girl nodded. "Uhhh, I dunno… a six? Maybe a seven?"

"Damn, girl. Robbie's only a five and I'm _dating_ him."

"Pssh, in hindsight he was a three for me."

Tambry raised an eyebrow. Wendy raised her hands innocently. "Hey, matter of taste, dude," she insisted, placing a hand on her chest. "That was my rating for him. No judging. Girl code, remember?"

"Ha! Like I could forget the girl code. We invented it when we were, like, eight!"

Wendy grinned halfheartedly. "Yeah…"

The two girls shared an awkward laugh and smile, then fell silent. The redhead glanced away, rubbing her arm – unsure of what to say next – and the dark-haired girl looked in another direction, still conflicted by the sheer bizarreness of the situation.

Finally, Tambry shrugged and broke the silence. "Well, advice time, I guess."

Wendy gave the girl her full attention. "You actually _have_ advice?" she exclaimed, leaning in eagerly. "Yes, please."

"Okay, first of all, I'm admitting you have, like, some good points about the age difference and how he's the exception to a lot of rules," Tambry told her sternly. "I've known you since we were kids, so I know you mean everything you're saying, even though you know it'd raise a few eyebrows."

The redhead nodded grimly. "Yeah."

"Like, _serious_ eyebrows. Police and parent eyebrows."

"I don't know about _police_ , Tambry. I-I mean, it's only three years' difference, right?"

"Wendy. He is a _small_ twelve-year-old."

"Okay. Fine. Yes. I know he's small and that if this ever came to light out of context, even though the physical aspect is _totally_ not a part of this, people would look at me like a cougar-in-training. That's part of the _reason_ I'm so stressed about this."

"And I know that, I promise you, I get it!"

Tambry hesitated, glancing away. "Well, it's more that I understand what you're getting at," she admitted, then looked back at her friend. "Age thing aside, let's look at the situation. A guy tells you he likes you, and you successfully place him back in the friendzone where you're comfortable with him being. He's getting used to it! He's okay! Then about a day later you decide 'hey, maybe I told him something I thought I meant but maybe I didn't actually mean it quite that way'? I mean, even if he wasn't – y'know – _twelve_ , what kind of reaction would he have to that? As mature and cool as you insist that he is, he's still got a lot of growing up to do. The whole parents-and-police thing is even more of a reason for you to… I guess, just try and get over it?"

Wendy blinked.

She hesitated for a moment, frowning, then groaned and lay down on the chair – an arm slung over her face. "Yeah… you're right," she muttered. "I guess I knew that. I mean, if I changed my mind this quickly what's to say it might not happen again? It'd be cruel to get his hopes up…"

Tambry shrugged. "Sorry, Wendy."

"Nah, man, it's good advice."

The redhead sighed again and sat up, finally looking resigned to her situation. "I'm just messed up and sleep deprived. I'm probably just thinking I was feeling something else…" she murmured.

It felt like her heart weighed ten pounds heavier, sinking in her chest. "I'll get over it, or… figure it out, I guess."

Tambry heaved an internal sigh of relief, but patted her friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry. You already let him down easy, right? It's not like you have to avoid him. He's your friend, and heck if he's going to stop being that."

Wendy perked up a little at that, a little smirk curving her lips. "Yeah… I guess I can be happy about that."

The redhead glanced at Tambry worriedly. "But, you're not gonna –?"

The other girl scoffed. "What do you take me for? I might've spilled about your first kiss to, like, the whole gang but crushes are secret and sacred," she replied, crossing her heart. "Scout's honor."

"Okay…" Wendy sighed.

She stood up, hugging her friend. "Thanks for listening, Tambers."

Tambry scowled. "Don't call me Tambers."

"Classic Tambers!" Wendy laughed, pulling away sheepishly. She picked up her hat, put it on her head, then tucked her hands in her pockets and shrugged. "So, back downstairs?"

"Nah, let's stay up here for a little while. It's cool up here."

"Haha, I know, right?" the redhead smiled, eagerly reaching down for a pinecone and bouncing it in her palm – keen on finding a distraction from the heavy feeling in her chest. "I chuck these at the totem pole sometimes, wanna try it?"

"Eh, sure, why not."

Behind them, a faint, triangular shape – impossible for the human eye to see – slowly sunk down through the roof. It descended from the attic to the wall, as elusive as a shadow, and disappeared deep into the darkness of the Mystery Shack. Invisible. But ever watching…

 **.**

 **.**

 **One pic this time! Again, same username on deviantart. And don't you DARE REVIEW THIS CHAPTER. IT'S NOT LIKE *cough* It's not like I love stupidly lengthy reviews or anything. *examines my nails***

 _art/TLW-Chapter-2-The-Cheap-Souvenir-591331078_


	3. My Emotional Staple

**And here we are again. Third chap!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3:**

 **My Emotional Staple**

In a single night, Mabel had managed to tell pretty much the entire populace of Gravity Falls that there was going to be a "Christmas in July" party that Friday at the Mystery Shack, all before she had even made posters. Of course that had been remedied surprisingly quickly even for Dipper's painfully artistic twin sister. Grunkle Stan had been hesitant to say the least to "invite anyone willing to drink something called 'frozen hot chocolate'" until he tried a mug. Then he organized the advertising for the party, himself, charging twenty bucks a pop for tickets and fifteen for a mug of Mabel's Famous Frozen Hot Chocolate.

And so that was how Mabel, Candy, Grenda, Dipper, and Wendy were spending the afternoon shift – wearing Christmas-themed sweaters, walking around town with a pile of flyers and a staple gun.

Mabel held a poster up against a tree. "Wendy, over here!"

The redhead shrugged and walked over, punching a few staples into the bark and pretending to examine it so she wouldn't turn around when Dipper walked past her. She kept her voice casual, turning only when she heard his footsteps a few feet ahead of her. "Soooo, whatcha got in mind for this summer Christmas party, Mabes?" she called.

"Oh, the works!" Mabel enthused, dancing ahead of her friends. "All the hot chocolate, all the games, all the mistletoe –!"

"All the BOYS!" Grenda roared, throwing her fists up in victory.

"Will there be apple juice?" Candy asked in that halting way of hers, smiling cheekily.

"ALL THE APPLE JUICE!"

"YEAH! Eighties-movie-credits high five!"

All three girls slapped a high five and froze just like that, standing on one foot with their grins wide and eyes askew; Wendy raised her brows, but Dipper just kept walking. "Eh, they'll be like that for a while," the boy deadpanned.

He gave her a little smile. "We should probably keep going."

Wendy made sure to measure her steps so that she wouldn't seem too eager to catch up to him. "Oh, sure. Yeah," she drawled.

She still felt like she had hurried to match his pace. _Shit, did he notice? Aww shit shit…_

Wendy stole a glance at his slightly worried expression, then blinked. _He's not looking at me. Okay, good… unless he's mad at me for blowing him off the other day. Shiiiit…_

"H-Hey, Wendy?"

"You're not mad at me, are you?" Wendy blurted.

She kept her face neutral, internally horrified at her slip of the tongue. _Oh ffff…_

"Mad at you?" Dipper asked, interrupting her train of thought. He looked earnestly surprised. "Why would I be mad at you?"

The redhead kept her eyes ahead, resisting the urge to wordlessly turn right around and walk in the opposite direction.

"…No reason, you just seemed agitated?"

"Do I?"

His brows furrowed and his shoulders hunched as he looked worriedly ahead. "I don't mean to be."

Wendy grimaced. _I could just stick my head in the ground like an ostrich,_ she thought. _It would be less painful than this. Probably._

Dipper gave her another little smile. "A-Anyway, I was just gonna say something about your staple gun!" he said, scratching at his white-and-blue pine tree Christmas sweater. "You think that kinda thing could be used as a weapon? I've seen nail guns used like that, what do you think?"

The redhead laughed. "Hahahaha! I dunno!"

She stopped, drew the power tool, and grinned mischievously at Dipper. "Wanna try it?"

The boy's face lit up. "Heck yeah!"

Wendy felt like she was practically glowing under his excited brown eyes as she aimed the staple gun at a tree. Something in the back of her head told her she really shouldn't be enjoying him watching her like this, but she couldn't really help it; it was awesome to have a guy who'd faced down monsters look at you like you're awesome! It was totally normal for your heart to be beating a little fast, right? Anybody would be excited. Totally normal.

"Roger that, Charlie!" she replied, her voice slightly higher than normal.

Dipper snorted. "Are you calling yourself an angel?"

"Only your angel, man. Shut up~"

 _What… the actual_ _ **frick**_ _… did I just say?_ Wendy wheezed internally. She actually felt like was going to physically implode from the sheer mortification as the silence dragged on one second… two seconds… three…

"Are you gonna shoot?"

"Pff, yeay!" _YEAY?!_ "Fire in the hole!"

Wendy squeezed the trigger.

THOOP! Ping!

With a whoosh of air and an anticlimactic ring of metal on bark, a staple bounced off the tree.

"…Huh."

Dipper blinked, then glanced at Wendy. His snort was a little forced – trying to get back the playful mood - and nudged her. "Guess that didn't work. Maybe we should try out a nail gun when we get back to the Shack!" he enthused, shrugging with an awkward little half-smile. He punched the air encouragingly to try and hype her back up. "That should have a bit more oomph!"

Wendy sighed and straightened back up, glaring sullenly at her power tool. "Yeah, I guess so," she muttered, disappointed.

She smirked at Dipper, bobbing the staple gun in his direction. "Not exactly a zombie-killing machine, is it?" she joked, squeezing the trigger.

THOOP!

Dipper shrieked in surprise and pain. "OW!"

Wendy gasped and fumbled at the boy as he fell onto his butt in the dirt, pawing at the stomach of his sweater. "OMIGODDIPPERI'MSOSORRY!" she yelped. "Are you okay?! Does it hurt? I am sooo sorry, man!"

Dipper pulled up the hem… revealing a neatly punctured patch of skin right under his belly button, a clean little slot of aluminum right under his belly button, the skin around it slightly pink and agitated. The older girl blinked at it. He stared down at his injury, then back up at her.

"You _stapled_ me!" Dipper exclaimed in disbelief.

There was a moment of silence where Wendy and Dipper just stared at each other.

Then one of them cracked a smile, and they both instantly dissolved into hysterics, slapping at each other weakly and laughing so hard tears streamed down their face. Wendy clutched at her belly, wheezing in pain when she got a hitch in her side. She tried to grab at Dipper, but then the boy snorted mid-laugh and set them both off again until neither of them could even breathe – reducing their hearty guffaws into a death spiral of ugly, suffocating squeaks of mirth. The sheer ridiculousness of Dipper's statement had just caught them both so off guard… and after the tension of the past two days, being able to smile and laugh like this felt like paradise. Even if they were both curling in on themselves like broken slinkies and actually about to die from laughter.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Wendy wailed in distress and fell backwards, her cheeks aching and her sides feeling like they'd been stabbed. She gasped weakly, trying to get some air in her lungs. "Oh! Oh man!"

The older girl turned her head, beaming up at Dipper. "You can't DO that to me!"

The brunet boy chuckled. "You're amazing…"

Dipper's eyes flew wide. "Was that out loud?" he whispered in horror. He glanced at the older girl. "Uh, I mean, uh—!"

Wendy snorted dismissively. "Relax, dude, I know I'm totally awesome," she grinned.

"Hahahaha! Ha ha ha…"

Dipper shrunk in on himself a little bit, sheepishly nodding. Still, Wendy could see the tiny, uncertain smile on his lips and the bright red color of his face and ears as he drummed an idle little rhythm on his punctured belly.

On the inside, she could feel herself practically glowing at the familiar sight of his blazing cheeks. It was funny… With him around, whenever he looked at her, she really felt like he thought she was someone special. It really felt nice. He made her feel happy and wanted and confident and _beautiful_ and important to him, to be someone who he liked. Her chest swelled at the thought that she was the only one to make him smile, to make him turn that dorky shade of pink like that…

"AH~!"

Wendy and Dipper blinked at the sound. They looked around to see Mabel grinning at both of them, eyes shining and looking like she was about to burst. "Ooooooo! Wendy and Dipper sittin' in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" she yelled, laughing like a maniac. "HA HA HA HA!"

Wendy frowned, almost disappointed. _Geez, Mabel…_

Dipper looked like he was about to die. "Psssssssh, ahaha! J-Just, uh, ignore her! Seriously. She eats way too much sugar."

The redhead sighed, then pushed back her mild irritation and smiled at Dipper. "S'okay, man. Really."

The boy blinked – turning pink again, to Wendy's delight – then raised his sweater and glanced at the staple in his belly. "A-And on second thought, we really should get this thing outta me. There's no way it's sanitary…" he muttered.

"Pff! Yeah."

Wendy got up, brushed off her jeans, and offered him a hand. "You can get free band aids and stuff at the convenience store. We'll head there next," she smiled. "Plus, it's a great place to hang posters."

The boy glanced at her hand… then blinked, startled out of whatever had been going through his head, and took it.

She pulled him to his feet, grinning as she bumped their foreheads together playfully. "You're not gonna die, man. You're gonna be just fine."

Dipper blushed hotly at their proximity. "I-I never said I was gonna die! Geez…"

Wendy laughed again, grabbed the bill of his hat, and pulled it down over his eyes, earning a squeak of indignation from the boy as she practically danced away. "Well c'mon then! Let's go!"

The boy wrestled his hat back into place and grinned mischievously. "Oh, now you're awakened the _beast~_!" he declared dramatically.

"Bring it!"

Wendy took off down the road, Dipper hot in pursuit. Meanwhile, Mabel watched from a distance, her eyes shining as she watched her brother chase after the older girl, getting faked out by her abrupt stops and starts and laughs as she darted out of his reach.

"It's like watching squirrels in the spring~" she cooed, squishing her cheeks and swaying from side to side.

"They are so dating!" Candy commented.

"I SHIP IT!" Grenda shouted, grinning.

 **.o.O.o.**

"Shhhhhhow ow ow ow…"

"Sorry! Sorry…" Wendy murmured, brows furrowed in distress. "I literally don't know how to get this thing out of you without –"

Dipper laughed only a little forcibly, perched on the counter and holding up his shirt. "I-It's okay, seriously! I promise you, no matter what you do on accident I've probably had worse. Just pull it out."

The older girl stared up at him in horror. "But that's crazy!"

He looked at her blankly. "What?"

Wendy blinked. "What?"

After a few minutes of their little game of chase, the pair had arrived at the gas station convenience store just in time for Dipper to actually start bleeding; Wendy had immediately made a beeline for the front door, asked for their first aid kit, and had been trying not to fret over getting her accidental staple out of the boy's stomach since. Mabel, Grenda, and Candy had mysteriously vanished, giggling, towards the farthest wall of overpriced snacks, out of sight and earshot.

Finally, the girl behind the counter – a brunette with a nametag labeled "Shay" – brought them a dusty plastic first aid box. "Here ya go."

Wendy let out an unconscious sigh of relief and took it from her. "Thanks…"

Shay popped her gum, reassuming her bored position behind the cash register. Dipper frowned at her, but his attention was reclaimed by Wendy when she pulled out a couple of tools; despite his claims, he turned a little pale at the sight of the pliers.

"O-On second thought, while I have you here can I ask you a little bit about that summer snowstorm?!" he asked, voice cracking.

Wendy laughed. "C'mon, man, what happened to Mister 'Whatever you could do on accident I've probably had worse~?'" she smirked, snapping the pliers playfully.

"Please don't stab me."

"No promises!" the girl teased, and very, very carefully tried her hold on the staple. "Naw, man, I'll be careful. What'd you want to ask?"

"W-Well, to be honest I was just trying to delay the inevitable…" the boy admitted weakly.

"S'okay, I'll tell ya anyway!" Wendy said. To Dipper's relief, she traded out the pliers for tweezers instead, and tried to pinch the staple with them while still avoiding his skin. He winced as she worked. "Usually it happens sometime around July, so at least the timeframe is right. Anyway, it starts out with a little bit of wind 'cuz of the whole hot-air-cold-air thing, but it's usually pretty gentle and drops from normal summer temperatures to below freezing over the course of… I dunno, maybe three days?"

She shrugged. "But the kicker is that the snow will literally drop like God upended a huge cosmic snowcone-maker. Like, two years ago, I go into the house to get my coat, right? Not a single flake on the ground. I close the door, put on my coat, and there is this huge _BOOMF_ kinda noise. I open the door again, and there's literally two feet of snow as far as you can see."

Dipper blinked. "Wow. That's a serious phenomenon!"

"Yeah, man! You can kinda guess on how long you have until temperatures go back to normal, though. Depending on how intense the snow drop, the cold flash can go from just a day or two to whole weeks long," she informed him. "It's pretty crazy. One time someone got caught outside during the snow drop, one super bad year, and he came back all blubbering and chewed up by wolves! Apparently the cold messes up animal body clocks or something? I dunno."

Dipper looked a little intrigued and way more than a little terrified. "Either way, since then, it's a superstitious death sentence if you go into the woods while the summer snowpack is on the ground," Wendy told him, shrugging again. "Yeah, it's intense."

She leaned back down to his stomach. "And speaking of intense, brace yourself!"

"WAIT! NO NO NO NO!"

"Pffff, psyche~"

Dipper pushed her, eyes wide in horror. "You jerk!" he wheezed.

Wendy threw her head back and laughed. "Hahahaha! Okay, for real this time though…"

* * *

"So, everyone good with the plan~?"

Grenda stuffed the umpteenth bag of popcorn kernels into their basket. "Oh, TOTALLY!"

Mabel grinned gleefully at her friends, then struck a dramatic pose. "Then, let Operation Find-Out-How-Much-Wendy-Likes-Dipper-Because-She-Totally-Does-I-Mean-Did-You-SEE-That? BEGIN!" she declared.

One by one, the three girls scooted along the edge of the snack racks. Mabel hummed Mission Impossible music under her breath as she poked her head around the corner.

* * *

"OW!"

Dipper hissed in pain, looking down at the shallow gash torn out of his skin. "Ooookay, that hurt a lot more than I was expecting it to…" he admitted. "Yowwwwwww…"

Mabel rolled for the cover of the front counter as Wendy put a butterfly bandage on his belly. "Sorry again, man."

"Hey, don't mention it!" the boy said brightly.

Wendy smiled, picked him up, and put him back down on the tile. Dipper smiled happily into her eyes; she smiled back, using the excuse to wait a moment before letting him go and straightening back up. _Kinda stinks that he's little – it would be hard to dance or kiss when he's literally a foot shorter than me and is literally my chest height. Awww, well, he_ _ **is**_ _cute when he blushes but_ _ **OH MY GOD STOP IT!**_ Wendy snapped to herself, resisting the need to slap the blush out of her own cheeks.

Dipper smiled up at her for a moment longer… then it faded, replaced by worry and uncertainty. He twiddled his fingers for a moment.

"Look, uh, Wendy?"

The redhead glanced down at him in surprise. Dipper avoided her eyes sheepishly. "I think…" he started to say, then swallowed. "I think we might need to talk about what happened two nights ago."

Wendy felt like an iron dumbbell had dropped into her gullet.

"Uh… yeah, we probably do, haha…" she laughed, shrugging awkwardly.

"See, I mean… the thing is…"

Dipper groaned and scratched his head with both hands. "Ugh! This is so hard to say, so I'm just gonna say it so please don't interrupt me till I'm done, okay?!" he blurted, and continued without waiting for an answer. "I totally know that you meant it like we were just friends! I get that, but I'm still getting over thinking of you ANOTHER way, so, like…"

He sighed wearily - feeling his heart break just a little bit more – and gave Wendy a bittersweet, tired, but heartfelt smile.

"I love you, too…" he told her, his voice breaking slightly.

If he had plunged a rusty knife into her chest and twisted it, it might have hurt Wendy less than that tiny little breach in his young voice. She stared at him, her face blank but her insides in turmoil as he went on. "And I will get over you. I promise. But until then, don't give me hope? Please?" Dipper pleaded. "I-It's totally dumb, I know! I'm not even, like, sad or anything!"

She felt her heart splinter when Dipper swallowed past a lump in his throat, still fighting to smile at her. "I'm stoked to be friends with you! I really am!" he enthused, a red flush of stress just over his cheeks.

The boy turned his eyes to the floor – the bill of his cap hiding his expression. "And… I appreciate you telling me that! But right now, I can't help but hope it means another… kind. The non-platonic kind."

Wendy swallowed too, her hair falling forward. "Pssh. Nah, man, I get it…" she murmured. "Sorry if there was any kind of… y'know."

"Misunderstanding?" Dipper offered, smiling halfheartedly.

"Yeah. Exactly…"

The redhead made a casual turn, as if she was examining a stain in a ceiling tile. She kept her eyes wide, in hopes that the air conditioning would dry the inexplicable tears before they reached the point of no return.

"Misunderstanding," she repeated.

* * *

Mabel's jaw dropped in horror. She flailed frantically at Candy and Grenda – who had been just about to grab Wendy and haul her off for some playful questioning – and motioned for them to stop. The two girls blinked, glanced at Wendy, and hesitantly backed off.

* * *

Tears sunk back into their canals reluctantly.

"Phew…"

Wendy let out a sigh of relief, completed the turn, and smiled down at Dipper – unbeknownst to the stressed red in her own cheeks. "Thanks for, y'know!"

"Understanding?" Dipper asked. His smile faded more and more as he analyzed Wendy's forced expression.

"Pff! Yeah, totally."

Wendy glanced at a clock, not even seeing it. "Oh dude, crud, is it that late?" she exclaimed, trying to keep up her smile to very little avail. "We should get back to the Shack!"

Mabel couldn't take it anymore. "BUT WE STILL HAVE AN HOUR!" she yelled in distress, popping into view. "STAY! YOU CAN TALK THIS OUT!"

The cashier girl yelped and shooed her out from behind the counter. Dipper turned, startled by his sister's voice, but was quickly distracted by the fact that Wendy was actually leaving. "H-Hey, I mean, she's right!" he exclaimed, hurrying after her.

He caught up with her outside – the convenience store doors wheezing shut behind them. Mabel, Candy, and Grenda poked their heads out to hear what they were saying. "I mean, that we still have an hour, haha. There isn't much to really talk about, I guess! Not concerning that anyway!" Dipper scrambled to say, trying to mend the easy conversation. "So, uh, what other kinds of power tools do you think would be cool zombie weapons?! Hahaha-!"

Wendy let out a weak noise – feeling a physical pang of something that _hurt_ – and grabbed him, yanking his little body to her chest, wrapping her arms around him, and not letting go. Mabel gasped. Candy and Grenda did, too.

Dipper turned from dead white to blood red and back again so fast he resembled a Christmas light.

Wendy paused, blinked… and let out a shriek of frustration. "UGH!"

She let the boy go like he was a hot brick and stalked away, both hands flying to her head. _I can't DEAL WITH THIS!_ she thought frantically, tugging on her hair like that would solve all her problems.

Meanwhile, back at the entrance of the store, it was silent.

Dipper, Mabel, and her friends stared after her – mouths agape.

After a moment of silence, the colorful brunette glanced cautiously at her buddies, then at her brother, and sidled up to his side. She looked at his gaping face sidelong, thumbs twiddling. "Uhhhh… so!" she commented nonchalantly. "What were you guys talkin' about?"

Dipper didn't answer.

Mabel blinked again, then reached over and shut her brother's mouth. "Wop."

 **.**

 **.**

 **No illustrations this chap! I was lazy. Might change in the future though. I dunno. *coughs and nudges your eyes down towards the Review box***


	4. That Awful Sound

**Holy crap, that long-ass review from Shmebulock made me all happy and just earned this fic another posted chap! Lyrics are from "Bang Bang" by Sonny Bono. Kill Bill is an awesome movie, but extremely R-rated. I feel like it's something Wendy would dig. Chapter 4! Bang~**

* * *

 **Chapter 4:**

 **That Awful Sound**

Wendy went straight home. She lied to her dad and said she had the day off, then went up to her room, grabbing a bag of snacks on the way. And now, she lay on her stomach – eating chips and watching Kill Bill Volume One; nothing like some good old assassins and over-the-top blood effects to get her mind off of things. It was an old movie but a classic. She and Dipper hadn't watched it on their movie nights, though… it was very thoroughly an R-rated movie, insinuations of things that not even Wendy really wanted him seeing…

The shot of a gunshot rang out, both on the screen and off. _POW!_

Wendy glanced listlessly over at her window – knowing the sound of her dad's hunting rifle – and turned her eyes back to the screen as the opening credits rolled.

" _I was five and he was six,_

 _We rode on horses made of sticks._

 _He wore black and I wore white…_

 _He would always win the fight, bang bang_ …"

* * *

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Dipper yanked off his sweater, tossed it to the floor – ignoring his sister's loud demands to know what happened – and went upstairs. His head was hung in anger, confusion as he threw himself onto his bed.

What was going on?! What was going on with Wendy…?

* * *

" _He shot me down, bang bang…_

 _I hit the ground, bang bang…_

 _That awful sound…_

 _Bang bang…_ "

Wendy sighed and turned over, throwing an arm over her eyes. _Why did it have to happen like this?!_ she thought. _Why am I such an idiot?! What is he gonna think of me now…?_

" _My baby shot me down…_ "

Wendy sighed, taking her arm off her face – just staring up at the ceiling and wishing a dark hole would just swallow her up. What kind of cruel joke was this, that she could feel that well-meaning pain she'd inflicted on Dipper not two days ago, sitting on a log in the middle of the woods? She knew this was what was best. Being more than friends would be nothing but awkwardness and… and talking? And laughing… laughing at the awkwardness and overcoming it…

" _Seasons came and changed the time…_

 _When I grew up, I called him mine._

 _He would always laugh and say,_

' _Remember when we used to play?_ '"

What kind of irony was it that all this had reversed?

Wendy bit her lip and closed her eyes, letting out a weak sound of pain. She turned on her side, curled up, arms wrapped around the blackened, shriveled curl of embarrassment that her lower stomach had become.

" _Bang bang, I shot you down…_

 _Bang bang, you hit the ground,_

 _Bang bang, that awful sound_ …"

Now, she couldn't help but think about it. What it'd be like to hold his delicate hand. To feel his fierce, intelligent eyes look up at _her_ in wonder, like _she_ was the one to be treasured. To be there by his side as the years passed, laughing as his voice broke even worse, then be in awe when it settled into something deep and nice.

" _Bang bang…_

 _I used to shoot you down…_ "

A voice that would say "I love you" out loud. Not in that soft, hurried whisper, like he was scared to be heard…

Wendy couldn't help but feel a terrible sinking sensation in her chest; even worse than when you died in a video game boss battle and forgot to save before heading in. It had taken three stupid little words said over the phone – and all the shit that happened after – to make her realize how much of a rare person Dipper was.

To make her feel like she'd spat in his excited, innocent face, feel like she had given his precious heart its first scar.

" _Music played, and people sang~_

 _Just for me, the church bells rang~_ "

Outside, the sun was setting. The breeze was just picking up, carrying the scent of the crushed pine needles on the wind. Soft orange light filtered through her window, seeming to light her fiery hair ablaze in copper as she lay there, curled on her side. It was a warm night, even for summer… and she felt drowsy…

" _Now he's gone, I don't know why…_

 _And till this day, sometimes I cry._

 _He didn't even say goodbye._

 _He didn't take the time to lie_."

And she didn't want to think about this. Not anymore. So, Wendy allowed her exhaustion to take her…

" _Bang bang, he shot me down,_

 _Bang bang, I hit the ground,_

 _Bang bang, that awful sound…_

 _Bang bang…"_

Wendy closed her eyes.

" _My baby shot me down..._ "

* * *

Dipper closed his eyes, restlessly drifting off to sleep…

* * *

 **.o.O.o.**

 _War cries echoed in deafening silence… followed by the crackle of flames and the pained wails of women, children… Wendy smelled despair, and frostbite. In the half-awareness that she was dreaming, the girl looked around herself and saw only white. A blurred figure stood at a distance, stark against the snow… but it was as if she was still half asleep. She couldn't see… couldn't focus… couldn't move in that bed of ice, warm and comfortable as her own bed…_

Knock knock!

Wendy jumped awake. She lay there, blinking for a minute, disoriented by the sudden darkness.

Her tv screen was black and silent – most likely switched off by one of her brothers, the punks, she'd TOLD them not to come in her room – and the sky outside was navy blue and studded with stars, only brightened by the faint strawberry afterglow of the sunset. For a moment, the redhead felt a little lighter, less exhausted… but then she remembered the fool she'd made of herself.

The thunderous knocks grew louder. "HEY, WENDY! DINNER'S READY! IT'S DEER!"

"NOT HUNGRY, DAD, THANKS!" Wendy yelled back.

There was a pause, then she heard Manly Dan's feet thump loudly away.

"Where's Wendy?" she heard one of her brothers ask from downstairs.

"She's not hungry!"

"WENDY'S not hungry?! Did you tell her it's deer?"

"I told her!"

She pulled a pillow over her head, groaned, and rolled over, trying to block their loud conversation. Her heart was like lead in her chest… and their bellowing really wasn't helping…

Manly Dan thumped his way back up the steps and knocked again. "You okay in there, girly?!"

Wendy opened her mouth to say yes, just so he would go away… but she couldn't help but hesitate. Was she okay?

There was a long pause…

Then, she sighed. "No…" she muttered.

Manly Dan practically kicked down the door, barging into her room and swinging his fists above his head. "WHO'S HURT MY BABY GIRL! I'LL PUNCH THEIR TEETH IN!" he roared, punching a hole in the wall. Crunch!

"Dad, calm down…" Wendy sighed.

She pulled a stuffed animal to her chest, hugging it somberly. "It's not his fault."

The giant lumberjack paused, a bit stumped at that. The three Corduroy boys poked their heads around the corner; Wendy shot a glare at them, and they beat a hasty retreat. They knew better than to stick their noses into their sister's boy troubles.

Manly Dan, however, was not so easily cowed. The big, hairy man sat down next to Wendy. The mattress sunk down, springs groaning with his weight, but she just sighed, squeezing her stuffed animal. "What's the problem then?!" her father asked, always the listening ear for his daughter.

Wendy hesitated, shrugging. "I just… "

Finally, she just sighed and put her head on his arm, resigned to her fate. "I really like this guy…" she confessed quietly.

"What guy?! No boy is worthy of a Corduroy girl's affections!" Manly Dan roared brusquely.

Wendy snorted, patting his hairy forearm. "I know, dad, I know. But…"

She curled into a ball. Her stuffed animal squeaked in complaint.

"I dunno… he's different," she murmured into its fur. "Different from Robbie or anyone else I've dated…"

"TELL ME ABOUT THIS DREAM BOY!"

Wendy laughed at that. "I don't know about 'dream boy.' But… okay."

The redhead was silent for a moment, toying with a lock of her long hair as she collected her thoughts. She knew she couldn't tell her dad everything, Dipper was definitely not the kind of guy Manly Dan would approve of… Yet another barrier between them…

"We met at the shack," Wendy told him. That much was true. "He's cute… and he's smart… And we met a while ago, and officially we're just buddies, but… "

"You started liking him?!" Manly Dan yelled. "Is it your friend Lee?! HE'S GOT A GREAT PERSONALITY!"

"DAD! It's not Lee."

"OH!"

"There's just… a problem, y'know?" Wendy said, hugging her stuffed animal tighter. "There's an age difference…"

"AGE IS JUST A NUMBER!"

Manly Dan sprung to his feet, shaking a fist at the heavens. "NOTHING SHOULD STAND IN THE WAY OF TRUE LOVE!" he yelled.

"Daaaaaaaaad-!"

"TOMORROW IS THE DAY!" her father bellowed, pointing a sausage of a finger at Wendy. She blinked at the finger in confusion, then up at him. "Tomorrow you will walk up to him and say 'HI! HOW ARE YOU!' in your BEST OUTDOOR VOICE! It helps break the ice!"

Wendy felt like she shouldn't be so amused by this. "Dad, c'mon!"

"NO BUTS! TAKE INITIATIVE AND STEAL HIM FROM THE OTHER LADIES! YOU'RE A FLIPPIN' CORDUROY!"

The redhead snorted, biting back a laugh. "Yeah… I'm a flippin' Corduroy~"

"DARN RIGHT!" Manly Dan yelled, nodded in approval, and banged his head on the doorframe on the way out. "OW! Now get down here! Your deer meat is gettin' cold!"

Wendy giggled quietly, amused by her dad's enthusiasm, and looked back at the darkening sky. Maybe he was right about breaking the ice…

 _You know what, yeah!_

She nodded decisively. _Tomorrow is the day._

Tossing her stuffed animal back on the bed, Wendy got up, smiling as she rattled down the stairs, sparing not a thought to the strange dream she'd had. _But first, dinner! I'm starving!_

* * *

 **.o.o.o.**

A soft pulse of music met Dipper's ears.

He blinked – glancing around in surprise – as he found himself in the middle of a dance floor. A disco ball turned lazily overhead, casting multicolored chips of light over the dancing crowd. Hazy shadows danced idly around him, the walls glowing violet, all smeared with that hazy dreamlike quality that he knew so well. It was Stan's party, back whenever he tried to ask Wendy to-

"Heya, loser~"

Dipper turned around, only for blood to rush to his face and his throat to close up, struck dumb by the sight before him.

Wendy was making her way towards him through the crowd. Where the rest of the dream was hazy, an incredible clarity surrounded her; she didn't speak in mumbles, but in real words that he could hear. He could see every freckle on her face like she was right there in front of him, wearing a long green dress and black kitten heels. Flecks of gold glimmered in her beautiful green eyes, her hair glowing like a fiery halo in the dancing lights.

The boy blinked, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "H-Hi…"

The dream Wendy laughed – making him blush even hotter – and took his hands. Dipper avoided her eyes as she pulled him close to her, dancing slowly from side to side. He was actually surprised that he _could_ avoid her eyes, and that he could think as clearly as he _was_. While normally in dreams he felt oddly forgetful of any sort of emotional separation, Dipper couldn't help but think about the _real_ Wendy… _worry_ about the real Wendy!

 _ **She let out a weak noise – feeling a physical pang of something that hurt – and grabbed him, yanking his little body to her chest, wrapping her arms around him.**_

Dipper felt his heart sink, remembering that tight hug. Like she hadn't wanted to let him go.

" _ **I'm too old for you."**_

He looked up at the dream Wendy. The doppelganger beamed down at him, absolutely gorgeous in the kaleidoscope of sparkling lights…

" _ **I love you."**_

Dipper grit his teeth and shoved her away.

And his dream ground to a stop. As if time had froze, the fake Wendy stopped in mid-stumble. The disco ball stopped. All the color flickered from the dance floor, bleached monochrome. All except Dipper. The hazy, dancing shadows stopped right where they were – flickering and jumping in and out of focus – as Dipper clenched his fists and _yelled_.

"You're not REAL!" the boy cried. He growled, hands going to his head. "I know you're not! So I can just say what's on my mind!"

The edges of the dream faded to black, racing down the lines of the room and bleeding out like ink in water. Dipper paced angrily, barely aware of the darkness that zeroed in on the only thing left in focus.

Wendy.

"I-I understood when you said we should just be friends," Dipper said, eyes cast down. "But ever since we talked that night… you've done nothing but contradict yourself!"

They were standing on a plane of blackness now.

"So I can't help but think-!"

Yellow eyes opened.

Dipper shrunk in on himself, flushing bright red. "Ugh! YOU'RE SO CONFUSING!" he bellowed.

" _AH HA HA HA HA HA HA!"_

 _The boy started, blinking in shock at the slit yellow eyes that glowed in Wendy's face. "WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL~!" his literal dream girl grinned, in a voice that Dipper knew far too well. "LOOK AT YOU, PINE TREE! I'M SO PROUD!"_

 _Dipper gasped and fell back. "Bill?!"_

 _The fake Wendy's body bent like playdough, rolling in on itself and – in a flash of digitized blue light – the familiar triangular demon made his appearance, single eye squinted as if he was smiling. "I LEAVE YOUR LITTLE MIND FOR A WEEK OR TWO AND COME BACK TO YOU PONDERING ONE OF THE GREATEST MYSTERIES IN THE UNIVERSE!"_

 _Bill seemed to grin even wider. "WOMEN!"_

 _Dipper bared his teeth – shock turning to anger in an instant as his mind reshaped itself around the nightmare – and scrambled to his feet. "Get out of here! Nobody likes you!"_

" _SHEESH, SOMEBODY WOKE UP ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE BED."_

 _The boy scowled up at the glowing yellow triangle as it floated over to Dipper's side. "Don't you have anything better to do?" he muttered. "Like, skin a puppy or make babies cry?"_

" _OH CALM YOUR MEAT CHEEKS, PINE TREE, I'M JUST HAVING SOME FUN! ENJOY IT WHILE YOU CAN! THE APOCALYPSE IS COMING!"_

 _Bill cackled. "HAHAHA! THAT IS, IF YOU LIVE TO SEE THE DAY!"_

 _Dipper rubbed his arm, feeling goosebumps rise under his skin at that eerie, echoing laugher. "What are you playing at?" he muttered._

 _The demon rose slowly above his head, a circle of blue fire appearing around Dipper. "I'D BE A LITTLE NICER TO ME, KIDDO! WINTER IS COMING, TOO, AND ONCE THE SNOW FALLS THE WENDIGOS WILL FIND AN ARTICULATE SACK OF BLOOD FAR LESS AMUSING THAN I DO! YOU MIGHT NEED ME! YOU AND YOUR LADY FRIEND!"_

 _Dipper shrank away from the rising fire. "W-Wendigos… What are you-?!"_

 _A haunting, almost humanlike screech ripped through Dipper's brain as the flames rose over his head, a series of images flickered past his eyes too quickly for them to register_ , and suddenly he was gasping, eyes wide and awake, covered in cold sweat. Dipper swallowed, panting heavily…

Staring into the darkness of his and Mabel's bedroom, he could still feel the ghostly tongues of Bill's fire crawling across his arms.

Dipper shivered and looked at the digital numbers of his clock.

It was just past 11pm.

As quietly as he could, the twelve-year-old got out of bed – careful not to wake Mabel. He grabbed a flashlight and Journal 3, tiptoed from their attic bedroom, and closed the door behind him.

 **.o.O.o.**

Outside, a cold breeze was starting to pick up.

As the night wore on, the howling wind moaned, loud and haunting, curling around the Mystery Shack like the ghosts of years long gone. Stars flickered, soon obscured behind heavy clouds… heavy, pregnant clouds that masked the dawn and transformed it into a grey, lifeless affair. The morning wore on in that exhausting grey. The temperature was dropping as Wendy made her way to work, carrying her usual bag lunch and – like most of the town who knew what was coming – kept some article of winter gear close at hand should the snow suddenly fall. With this cooling, windy weather, the July blizzard had to be just around the corner.

Wendy sighed and flicked her long braid out of her face, spitting at the flyaways that whipped at her freckled cheeks. Her green plaid coat was lined with fleece, over a white tank top that said "Come at Me Scrublord I'm Ripped," her favorite pair of jeans, and her usual muddy rainboots.

Finally, she reached the porch of the Shack. Muttering, Wendy put down her lunch, straightened up, and started to tuck the annoying flyaways up into her hat…

Then, suddenly, she felt eyes on her back.

Wendy hesitated… then frowned. It was a strange sensation, like the feeling she got when she turned her back on someone, but she still knew they were there. Watching her…

She put her hands down and turned to look.

Halfway down the road, a hazy figure drifted out of focus, and disappeared.

Wendy furrowed her brows. Warily, the redhead bent down to pick up her lunch, opened the door, and went inside – never taking her eyes off that stretch of road. The screen door thumped closed behind her as she backed inside, goosebumps raising on her skin.

Finally, she sighed, turned around… and blinked, partially blinded by a smorgasbord of festive decorations that made Christmas decor at the mall seem conservative. The Mystery Shack was completely decked out in glitter, spray-on snow, white fluff, ivy, wire angels, and glue-covered Christmas trees constructed of everything from candy to stuffed animals. Soos was bustling around, hanging up more sticky, glittery garlands braided out of living pine branches. "Oh, hey Wendy!" the plump handyman greeted from his place up on the ladder. He waved, his hand covered in irregular patches of sap and sparkles. "How's it hangin'?"

Wendy stared around herself, still dazzled by the awe-inspiringly gaudy decorations. "Uh… I'm fine. I guess. I think?" she said uncertainly, going to put her sandwich in the fridge.

Soos struggled to staple the sticky garland into place. "Really? 'Cuz you never came back after going to hang those flyers."

"Huh? Oh!"

Wendy laughed awkwardly, rubbing sheepishly at her neck as the whole nail-gun-and-convenience-store debacle came back to her in full force. "Hahaha… uh, yeah, I just got a migraine on the way back. I'm okay now. You need any help with this stuff?"

She smirked and picked at a bit of spray-on snow. "Seems like you've got it pretty well-handled."

Soos pursed his lips, squinting at her clever evasion. "Suspicious…" he muttered, perfectly audible to her.

Wendy just shrugged and kicked her feet up on the counter. "By the way, you might want to wash your hands. Some of that ivy over there is poisonous."

"POISONOUSLY FESTIVE!" Mabel sang at the top of her lungs.

The twelve-year-old girl came prancing down the stairs, tossing a handful of glitter into the air. She was dressed in full Christmas attire, with glittery eyeshadow, an oversized Santa hat, a green sequin skirt, and a sparkly red sweater decorated with jingle bells that chimed deafeningly if she so much as moved her little finger. She posed at the top of the steps, throwing her arms wide. "You may call ME the Summer Christmas Fairy of Fabulousness~!"

Mabel turned around show off her tiny, glittery wire-framed wings. "I even have wings!"

Soos oohed and ahhed. "Ohhhhh, such a fitting name!"

Wendy snorted, her paranoia lifting as the older Pines twin skipped down the steps – leaving a trail of loose glitter in her wake – and handed her a bag of plastic mistletoe. "Here! You go hang these up in doorways~!" Mabel told her, waggled her brows at the older girl. She scratched her blotchy hands. "Maybe we should wait till Dipper actually gets up, hmm~?"

Before she could react, Mabel was moving onto Soos, waving around a list of decorations and yelling about substitutions for tinsel. Smirking, Wendy raised an eyebrow after her, then laughed quietly and shook her head. She opened the bag of cheap mistletoes. Peering into it, she got an idea.

The redhead grinned, grabbed a piece, and stuffed it into her jeans.

She dropped the rest of the bag onto the front desk – abandoning the noise of the souvenir shop – and walked up the stairs, a new bounce in her step.

Wendy knocked on the door to the twins' bedroom. "Heyyyy, Dip?" she called. "You alive in there?"

No response.

She paused, then poked her head in. The tossing clouds were visible through the triangular window, whipped into chaotic, bruise-colored peaks in the distance; the twin's room was tall and deep, with two beds on either side of the attic. Mabel's side was in a state of anarchy, covered in glitter and glue from all her decoration-making. On her brother's side hadn't completed escaped the herpes of arts and crafts, with a few specks of glitter here and there. Still, Wendy brightened when she spotted a Dipper-sized lump under his covers.

She made a prolonged gasping noise, mockingly in shock as she bumped the door open and sauntered in. "Oh nooooooo~!" she drawled, grinning. She sat on the end of his bed and raised the covers. "Dipper's dead~! What're we gonna _doooo_ ~?"

Her brows shot up in surprise.

It was a pile of pillows.

Wendy blinked, dropped the covers, and looked around. "Dipper?"

She wasn't sure why she bothered to call his name; he obviously wasn't in the room. Maybe he was in the bathroom or something. The redhead sighed and reclined back, letting herself relax. Maybe she was a little disappointed, sure… maybe she'd kinda wanted to see him with his hair all mussed up… and he'd start stuttering and turning pink when he saw her, maybe, and she'd tease him a little with the mistletoe just to see his reaction…

Wendy frowned, realizing what she had just been hoping for. "Wow, I'm an asshole…" she muttered.

She heaved and sigh and lay down. After a moment, she glanced at his pillow, debating hugging it – and instead she just poked it.

"Hey, Dip."

No response. Of course.

Wendy sighed again, rolling over onto her back. "What am I doing…?" she breathed. She closed her eyes, settling down for a nap.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, lightning flickering silently over the mountains…

Blind, hazy eyes stared down at Wendy, emotionless and blank.

Boney fingers reached for her face, hesitating right before they touched her freckled, rosy cheeks… and then slowly moved down. Wraithlike fingertips hovered half an inch above her collarbones, her breasts, her hips and over her long, strong legs…

 _WHACK!_

Wendy gasped and sat straight up, grabbing at her chest. She struggled to breathe, but something kept forcing the air out of her lungs! It felt like her heart was being crushed in something's fist-!

Her eyes rolled back in her skull.

Her arms dropped to her sides.

* * *

"MABEL!"

Mabel glanced away from Soos, who was perched precariously on top of his ladder to reach the ceiling. "Huh? Oh, Dipper, you finally decided to get up!" she smiled, as her brother skidded into the foyer. Her face twisted. "Geez, what happened to you?"

Dipper's hair was a rat's nest, like he'd been running his fingers through it all night, his eyes dark and slightly mad. "I've been up for a while," he explained quickly. "Mabel!"

He grabbed his sister's shoulders and stared into her eyes. "We HAVE to stop the party!" he told her urgently.

Mabel propped her fists on her hips, pouting. "What? Why?!"

"WHY?! WE'RE ABOUT TO BE _ATTACKED_ BY _GIANT_ _MINDSCAPE_ _FLESHEATING_ ZOMBIES, _THAT'S_ WHY!"

 **.**

 **.**

 ***watches as the plot crashes in like the Kool-Aid mascot*** **…Alrighty then! Anyone for nachos?**

 _art/TLW-Chapter-4-Bill-s-Message-591331968_


	5. Little Man

**And here comes first stage of actual plot~! *presses button***

* * *

 **Chapter 5:**

 **Little Man**

"WHY?! WE'RE ABOUT TO BE _ATTACKED_ BY _GIANT_ _MINDSCAPE_ _FLESHEATING_ ZOMBIES, _THAT'S_ WHY!"

"Okay, what's going on in here?" Stan called, wandering in from the living room with a half-empty can of Pitt. His fez was perched haphazardly on his head, like he'd just woken up from a nap in his armchair. "I hear children fighting."

Dipper and Mabel both turned to look at him. "Aww, Grunkle Stan!" she frowned. "Where's that Christmas sweater I told you to wear?!"

Stan shrugged noncommittally, waving her off. "I'll put it on when the party starts. Now, what's Dipper yelling about now in that nasally little voice of his?"

"It's not nasally!" Dipper yelped in protest.

He fumbled at the notes he'd scribbled on a handful of sticky notes. "And it's important!" he insisted, trying to de-crumple them against the wall. "Listen!"

He smoothed them out, cleared his throat, and began to explain. "Look Mabel, the Bakadewin were a Native American tribe in central Oregon until about two hundred years ago. Listen to this… 'At the height of an unprecedented period of prosperity that followed centuries of famine and bad luck, the tribe went extinct over a single night. To this day, no one knows what destroyed the Bakadewin.' It's one of the myths of Gravity Falls that was here before _Gravity Falls_ was! But here's the important part. There were a ton of references in their culture to… "

Dipper lowered his voice, whispering urgently. "The _wendigo_."

Mabel grinned cheekily at her brother and poked him in the side, eliciting a squeak of protest. "Ahhh~? See, I KNEW you had Wendy on the brain!"

"Mabel, no."

Grunkle Stan rolled his eyes, scratched himself, and walked back into the living room. "Well, it looks like you've got this handled. I'll be watching Old Man's Guide to Pickup Lines."

Dipper grabbed Mabel, dragging her along. "Oh, just… _c'mon!_ "

"Dipper! I have party plans to make!"

"Five minutes! I gotta show you this!"

Mabel groaned, but allowed her twin to pull her down the hall, leaving Soos standing on top of his ladder. "Uhh… dudes?" the handyman called, covered in glue and pine needles.

"Don't worry, Soos, I'll be right back!" the girl called back to him. "Remember! The more glitter the better!"

"You got it!" Soos nodded. He grinned, grabbed a handful of it from a nearby bin, and threw it into the air – invoking a shower of glitter over his hat and looking very proud of himself.

Meanwhile, the Pines twins darted down one hallway, then another. "I had a dream last night!" Dipper told his sister.

He slammed open the door to the room with the old shag carpet, finally letting her go. Mabel had to stagger to avoid the sheets of paper and stacks of notes placed haphazardly all over the floor, but Dipper skipped around them with a well-practiced motion, towards a broken spinning chair that was placed in front of a computer so old it still had dial-up. "You had a dream?" Mabel asked, frowning. She tried to tiptoe around her brother's notes. "About what, a paper factory?"

Dipper jumped up into the chair and clicked through the tabs he'd opened. "The wendigo – or at least according to Wikipedia – is a demon in Native American mythology, particularly with the northern tribes!" he explained. Mabel finally managed to navigate her way to his side, squinting at the fuzzy screen. "It says 'the creature or spirit could either possess characteristics of a human or a monster that had physically transformed from a person. They were said to possess powerful, malignant spiritual energy and were strongly associated with the winter, the north, and coldness, as well as with famine and starvation.' Particularly with – get this – _cannibalism!_ "

Dipper grabbed his sister's shoulders again, shaking her around. "Mabel, it's a monster that's born when a person feeds off of human flesh!"

He jumped off the chair, practically leaping back across the room. "And look!"

Mabel stared at her brother as he picked up his journal, flipping it back to the index and showing it to her. "I found a reference to them in the journal concerning weather phenomena!" he told her. "The actual information on them has to be in another journal, but Mabel! As far as I can tell, they theoretically exist somewhere between the mindscape and the real world, and since they're referenced to weather phenomena, I can only assume wendigos are behind the bizarre blizzards in July! The first wendigo legends originated with the Algonquians, which were mostly in Canada and on the east coast, but… what if they migrated?! What if these things MIGRATED, and hibernate every year?! What if they're HERE?! IN GRAVITY FALLS?!"

Mabel shook her head, warding off the dizziness, and raised an eyebrow at her twin. "Aaaaand you are suddenly a gross zombie buff _why_?"

"BECAUSE I had a dream with Bill in it last night! That's WHY I've been up!" Dipper yelled, voice breaking as he gestured madly at the papers strewn everywhere. "He said something about wendigos not finding me as amusing as he does, and that I might need him when they come!"

"Since when do you trust a warning _Bill_ gives you?"

That caught Dipper off guard.

He froze… then wilted slightly. "B-Because…"

Mabel patted her brother on the shoulder. "Look, Dipper, you've been up all night," she told him, smiling reassuringly. She shrugged cheekily. "I get that Bill freaked you out, but since when does he give us actual _warnings_ about crazy stuff like wendylows?"

"Wendigos."

She shrugged. "Whatever. Point is, I'd betcha my whole Sev'ral Timez CD collection that he just said it to mess with your head!" she said merrily. "Relax! Have some frozen hot cocoa!"

Dipper wilted. "So… you don't believe me?" he asked.

"I never said that, bro-bro! You've never been wrong about weird stuff – except, y'know maybe once or ten times – but ya have to admit you can be a little paranoid. And, uh…"

Mabel grimaced at the chaos of notes strewn everywhere. "…Overenthusiastic."

Her twin hesitated, then sighed and looked dejectedly down at the journal. "Maybe you're right…" he muttered.

She smiled and patted his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, Dipper! I'm immune to your crazy! Hahahaha!" she cackled. The girl gave him a playful poke in the belly – making him squeak in protest – and walked past him. "You should go put your sweater on! The party is tomorrow, start gettin' in the Christmas spirit!"

She walked out.

Then, a moment later, she poked her head back in. "Oh, and if you could go gather pinecones for decorations that would be great," she grinned. "THANK YOU!"

Mabel grinned and darted away.

Her brother sat there for a few minutes, just staring at the piles of paper he'd spent hours shuffling – then started gathering them up. It was true that Bill had never approached him with an earnest warning before… or an earnest _anything_ , for that matter. Was he really just being paranoid? Was this really all in his head? Since when did he actually _listen_ to Bill…?

" _ **WINTER IS COMING, TOO, AND ONCE THE SNOW FALLS THE WENDIGOS WILL FIND AN ARTICULATE SACK OF BLOOD FAR LESS AMUSING THAN I DO! YOU MIGHT NEED ME! YOU AND YOUR LADY FRIEND!"**_

" _ **Since when do you trust a warning BILL gives you?"**_

Dipper sighed again, slumping. "Since he brought Wendy into it…" he muttered to himself.

Gathering up the last of his notes, he grunted, shifted his load, and walked cautiously from the room, the pile of paper, pens, and journal teetering precariously in his arms. He heard Mabel cheerfully giving Soos instructions, and cast a wary look at their happy, careless faces as he carefully felt his way up the stairs. He still wasn't completely convinced that he wasn't right; too much lined up. The July snowstorm, the way native citizens – particularly the adults – said to avoid the woods during it? And most of all, the journal mentioned the monsters!

Dipper nudged open the bedroom door, huffing to himself. _Man, I would kill for a peek at Journal 1 or 2 right about now…_

A glimpse of red in his peripherals had that thought flying out the window.

He gasped, nearly dropping his notes in his haste to turn around and confront the intruder – but stopped when he saw who it was.

"W-Wendy?!"

The only answer he got was a groan of distress. Dipper's blood ran cold as he ran over to her; the older girl was crouching over a trash can, holding a tissue to her nose. A pile of crumpled, bloody ones already lay morosely at the bottom of the can and her skin had the same luster as a day-old corpse, freckles standing out like pinholes in her flesh. She looked absolutely _sick_.

Dipper hurried to get her hair out of her face. "Wendy, omigosh! Are you okay?!" he panicked, eyes wide. He took special care in twisting her long red locks and holding them off the nape of her neck; Mabel had always gotten the flu before him when they were little.

Still, Wendy's face contorted in discomfort. She shook her head weakly. "Should I get the first aid kit?! Or a Tums, or something?!" he asked frantically.

He felt at her forehead. "Oh gosh, you're ice cold…!"

Wendy bit her lip so hard it turned white, taking her hand off her stomach to grab at his shirt. Dipper felt both fear and thrill run through him as she dragged him close; immediately he scolded himself, overwhelmingly worried by her deathly pale complexion. Now wasn't the time for thinking like that! Wendy could be hurt, or sick, or worse! And seeing her like this, it was unsettling. Oh god, _he_ felt sick now…

"Wendy, c'mon, say something…!" Dipper whispered, still trying to hold her hair. He felt like he had swallowed a bowling ball. "You're scaring me…!"

The older girl sucked in a shallow breath, let it out… then took a deeper one. Her stomach was churning, and her body felt like it had just spent hours shivering in the cold; her muscles were sore, her joints ached, and her sinuses burned. The blood flow was ebbing though…

Riding out another wave of nausea, Wendy took a deep breath, paused, and looked at Dipper through hazy green eyes. "Hey…" she rasped.

Worried brown eyes stared back at her. "Are you sick? What's wrong? What happened?"

"I… I don't know…" Wendy replied honestly, grimacing at the taste of blood rolling down the back of her throat. "I was just lying down for a minute and then… something grabbed me…"

Dipper froze. "Something grabbed you?"

" _ **YOU MIGHT NEED ME! YOU AND YOUR LADY FRIEND!"**_

"W-What did it feel like?" the boy asked urgently. He gently pulled Wendy back towards the bed. She took small steps, responding to the small nudges of Dipper's worried hands and laying down on her side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…"

Wendy took the tissue off her nose, glanced at it, and rubbed her pale face. Her headache and nausea was starting to clear up. "I just… wow, what just _happened?_ " she exclaimed, sitting up.

Dipper took the trash can from her, putting it down at her feet in case she still needed it. "I'll go get you a wet towel."

He darted from the room; Wendy chucked her bloody tissue into the trash with a little more force than necessary and buried her face in her hands, hissing as she rubbed her aching eyes. What _was_ that?! It felt… _freezing_! And… angry, and _longing_. Or was that just her? Ugh, now she couldn't tell which emotions were hers and which belonged to… whatever that thing was…

Wendy growled, smacking at her forehead. _Don't start forgetting, you idiot! Remember what just happened!_

But trying to remember it – what she had felt, seen, heard during the throes of that experience – was like trying to catch smoke with her bare hands. In a matter of seconds, it felt like a forgotten dream. The redhead snarled, trying to at least hold onto the traces of fury that were quickly vanishing…

Then, those were gone too, and Wendy slumped – purely exhausted, frustrated, and confused.

"Um, here."

Wendy glanced up to see a warm, damp terry cloth being offered to her. She looked up further, meeting Dipper's worried gaze.

She sighed and accepted it. "Thanks, Dip…"

"No problem…"

The boy hesitated for a moment, then sat down beside her, watching carefully as she wiped the blood and sweat off her face. "Seriously, are you okay?"

She shivered. "Do you need a blanket or something?" he asked again, queasy with worry. "What were you doing up here in the first place…?"

A quiet laugh escaped Wendy. "Ha!"

Dipper cocked his head in confusion. "What?"

The redhead snorted, then raised an eyebrow at him, smiling ironically. "I was actually lookin' for you, dude."

That only confused him more. "Me? Why?"

Wendy shrugged. She pressed the damp towel against her face, savoring the delicious heat on her skin, and glared halfheartedly at the wall. "Mmmm… I dunno," she muttered. "I guess I felt a little weird, leaving things how we did yesterday."

Dipper blinked. "Oh… right."

He made an indecisive noise, bouncing his heels on the frame of the bed. "I've kinda been thinking about it too. And…"

He smiled at her nervously. "Yeah, it _was_ a little weird."

Wendy laughed. "Haha! Ahhhh, yeah, it was!" she replied.

She sighed and lowered the towel, leaving it loosely crumpled in her fist as she leaned back and smiled softly at Dipper. "Look… I really don't want to lose you as a friend, Dipper," she told him honestly. "You're the coolest guy I know, and I've had more fun with you than anybody else, seriously! And I don't want to lose that. Like, _ever_."

Dipper beamed at her, bowing shyly, a warm little glow in his chest at her words. "Thank you! Really. Me too, I mean, I would never want to lose you either…"

He scrambled to correct himself. "I-I mean, as a friend! Not as anything else! U-Unless you were talking about something else?"

Wendy laughed. "I wasn't talking about anything else."

Dipper turned bright pink. "O-Of course you weren't! And that's what I meant! Like –"

He bit his lip, then hurriedly looked away, drumming his feet on the bed frame again. "That's why I really hesitated to tell you in the first place. Because I didn't want to risk losing your friendship!" he confessed. "Like, you are WAY too awesome to not have in my life! I am MAD jealous of anybody that's known you longer than I have cuz, like… how long have we known each other?"

"What, two months? Two and a half?" Wendy guessed, grinning.

"I've known you for like, two months and it feels like two _days_!" Dipper exclaimed, throwing up his arms, not even bothering to put a filter over his words. She already knew that he liked her! He had nothing to lose, right? "I would _KILL_ to have known you for YEARS! You're amazing! You're so hardcore, but you're so chill! You have an amazing taste in music! You look amazing in _anything_ you wear, you're – like – GORGEOUS, and hilarious, and fun to be around… Where was I going with this? I had a point."

The whole time he was ranting, Wendy couldn't help but smile like a loon at his open adoration of her. It made her feel disgustingly fuzzy inside. She felt warm and happy… _loved_.

"You were saying how awesome I am~?" she teased, poking him.

Dipper flushed slightly, shoving at her. "Meh! Don't poke me."

Then his face lit up. "Oh, I remember my point!"

Wendy bit her lip, trying to control her urge to cut him off and kiss his cute, chapped little lips as he looked up at her intently. "You know how you really get tired of people after a while? Sometimes I even need a break from Mabel, and she's my twin sister! But I _never_ get tired of _YOU_!" he told her, gesturing wildly at the older girl. "You could lock me in, like, an underground bunker for a _YEAR_ with just _you_ for company and I feel like I would actually would not go crazy. I never run out of things to talk about with you! I can talk to you about super deep stuff. I can talk to you about stupid, funny stuff! It's easy NOT to talk! I know I'm ranting, but I'm _almost_ done, I promise!"

Dipper took a breather, taking a moment to collect his thoughts…

When he resumed, his tone was decisive. Knowing. "In fact, this is actually really nice," Dipper told her. "It's actually really nice that you _know_. I mean, that I know that _you_ know that I like – or 'liked' – you!" he said. "I feel like I can tell you about anything. I don't feel… _pressured_ like I did before."

He met her eyes, looking almost relieved. "Wendy, I love you!" he declared. "And I really don't think that's going to change!"

Wendy's heart skipped a beat.

A determined light gleamed in his hard brown eyes. "But I am honestly _more_ than happy if you just want to be my friend. I _want_ to be your friend! I don't want to pressure you in any way. I just want to be here for you, no matter how I _am_ here for you."

Dipper took a deep breath… and let it out. He felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"So yeah. I just wanted to tell you that," he said, turning to give Wendy a sheepish smile—

Wendy was staring at him, white visible all around her irises.

The younger boy blinked – then swallowed as he realized how many wrong ways she could have taken that. "U-Um… Wendy?" he asked, struggling to keep this sudden feeling under control. His heart was beating like a jackhammer. "I-I meant-?"

"I know what you meant! I-I did! I…"

Wendy bowed her head, so Dipper wouldn't see how difficult it was for her not to lean forward, cup his soft face, and kiss him right then and there. Nobody had _ever_ said _anything_ like that to her. None of her boyfriends, none of her regular friends, not even any of her family, at least out loud. It was… jarring, the effect it had on her heart… a feeling like her entire chest cavity was filled with nervous hummingbirds.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Her green eyes were soft, worried for her own fluttering heart as she met Dipper's nervous gaze. "That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," Wendy told him quietly, smiling.

In an instant, Dipper went from dreading rejection to dreading relapse back into his crippling crush. "R-Really? I-I was just being honest, I m-mean—there was no filter just then…"

"That's what makes it sweet~"

Wendy beamed at him. Her pale cheeks regained a bit of color. "Thanks, Dipper. I would really like that, for you to be here for me. I really would."

The boy internally heaved a sigh of relief and puffed out his chest proudly. "I-I will be! I promise!"

"Can't stop me from pokin' ya, though~" she teased, poking his shoulder.

"Hey!"

"Hahahaha!"

Dipper pouted, rubbing his shoulder, but he couldn't hold it for long – snorting, then laughing along with the older girl. Wendy sighed, smiling softly down at his happy face. _Well… I'm royally screwed,_ she thought to herself.

She stood up and walked towards the door. "So, wanna go help with decorations? Get glitter all over everything~?"

"Oh, Mabel did say something about gathering pinecones," Dipper recalled. He hurried over to where his sweater lay – newly repaired from the stapling it had received yesterday – and stuffed his head into it. "Wanna come with me?" he asked, putting his arms through their respective holes. He grabbed his backpack and slung it onto his shoulder. "Two people will get more than just one, and it looks like there's a storm coming."

"Sure! Anything for my little man~"

Dipper laughed at his new nickname, flushing a little as he walked past her. "Awesome! Let's go!"

He practically skipped down the stairs, a new, happy lilt in his voice and his step. Wendy tossed the dirty rag into the bathroom and followed him, listening to him chatter about the differences between male and female pinecones… and she came to a realization.

 _He's stolen my heart,_ Wendy realized.

She paused… then chuckled to herself, zipped up her jacket, and stuffed her hands in her pockets, following Dipper out into the windy afternoon. _But… I'm kinda okay with that, somehow._

 **.**

 **.**

 **Heheheh, cuties. They don't know shit's bout to go DOWWWWN.**


	6. Christmas in July

**Chapter 6:**

 **Christmas in July**

Mabel watched them go from her seat on the living room carpet. "Ahhh, it's cute. What those two have."

She giggled and resumed gluing an angel decoration. "Doot do doo~! Making Christmas~! Not worryin' about monsters at all~! Doodley doo~"

Stan listened to his little niece for a moment, brows furrowed…

Then, he got up from his chair.

The twelve-year-old looked up at her great uncle curiously as he walked around her arts and crafts, heading for the hallway. "Grunkle Stan, where are you going?" she asked.

Stan blinked. "Uh, I gotta go to the bathroom for a really long time!" he replied, quickly making up an excuse. "Old man bowels and all that. When ya gotta go ya gotta go!"

Mabel flailed, as if she could ward off the mental image. "Yeesh, okay! Gross…"

Having successfully deterred his niece from following him, Stan moved down the hall, back towards the gift shop as Mabel hummed to herself, her voice echoing through the house. The souvenir shop – like everywhere else in the house – dripped with tinsel and Christmas cheer.

Stan brushed a sticky garland off of the snack machine, punched in the code, and quietly slipped inside.

The bunker was an antithesis of the bright, warm, joyful shack he had just left. The air was cool and heavy, with a smell like steel and sour gasoline; the old man walked down the stairs, his brow wrinkled with concern. When he had arrived here all those years ago – answering a call for help on the back of a postcard – the very first phenomenon he had ever experienced in Gravity Falls was the summer blizzard. It was a windy afternoon a lot like this one…

Back when he was still Stanley Pines.

* * *

 **.o.O.o.**

– **30 YEARS AGO –**

" _My name is Tad Strange. Welcome… to Gravity Falls FM."_

Stan raised his eyebrows at the static on his radio. "Wow, that's a voice smooth as molasses!" he remarked, turning up the volume.

It was the summer of 1992, about four miles outside of a small lumbering town he had never heard of until a few days ago. Escaping the loan sharks in Dead End Flats, New Mexico had been more difficult than he'd thought, but hey, a few bullet holes in the rear windshield never hurt anybody! They just howled… in this strange, very _sudden_ wind that had popped up just in the past mile or so.

His train of thought was suddenly derailed by the smooth voice on the radio. _"Our top story today, the opening of Gravity Falls High School has been postponed due to the sudden appearance of a large, unidentified skeletal creature in the area. The creature has been described as 'unsettling' and 'thirty feet tall, with eyes like they have seen the cold depths of hell.' Local police are searching for the creature in the most isolated part of the woods, in small groups, as not to appear overly threatening to it or provoke an attack. But surprisingly, none have returned."_

Stan blinked, then stared at the radio like it was sprouting a head of its own. "Say what?"

" _But let us keep a positive outlook, folks! I am sure none of our children will be eaten in their beds."_

He scowled, scrolling the dial. "Geez, what kind of prank radio station is this?!" he muttered. For a full minute, the only sound that came out of the speakers was static; Stan pounded his fist on the dash, as if he could realign it through sheer force. "C'MON! Piece of shit radio…"

Suddenly, a low, husky voice – neither male nor female – rasped through the static.

"… _**U o y …**_ "

A freezing hand grabbed Stan's shoulder.

" **E N I M** _ **E R ' U O Y -!**_ "

Then, suddenly, a piercing whistle split the air.

The man jumped so hard he hit his head. "AH!" he yelped, more in surprise than pain. He frowned at the radio… then blinked.

There was no radio, just white.

"Huh?"

Stan looked up, rubbing his head, and saw that he hadn't hit his head on his car. A tough pine branch was just above him, the snow knocked from its needles.

Wait… SNOW?!

All at once, a mind-numbing, bitter cold – the kind of chill that penetrated your body and gnawed at your bones like a hungry animal – swept over him. Crying out, Stan hugged himself, shivering madly. He was surrounded by empty, snow-covered forest, featureless fifty-foot pine trees as far as the eye could see. Immediately, the man checked his watch, and looked behind him. His own footprints were punched into the snow, leading a meandering, oddly _scattered_ trail back through the woods, speckled with red from his profusely bleeding nose. Stan shivered, turned around, and followed them at a run, eager to get back to his warm car.

By following his footprints, he found his car still running and in fourth gear almost half an hour later, resting at a dead halt in the middle of the snow-covered road… like he had just taken his foot off the gas and allowed the car to coast to a stop in the thick, frozen snow. He could barely shut the door, let alone drive his little Stanleymobile the rest of the way to Gravity Falls. So, he grabbed his bag, peeled a winter jacket and cap off the floor, and walked the rest of the way to his brother's house.

And of course, the rest was history…

* * *

 **.o.o.**

– **PRESENT DAY –**

To this day, Stan had never figured out what happened to him. From his watch, he had lost less than ten minutes! But it had taken him _way_ too much longer to walk back to where he had _apparently_ left his car! In the middle of the road, no less!

With his brother getting sucked into an interdimensional gateway, he hadn't thought about that incident very much, and for thirty years he had thought of exploiting the summer winter for its value as a tourist attraction. But every time he tried it, the roads were too slick. His door froze closed. The signs pointing to the Mystery Shack blew over in the wind. It was always something. Something he could probably fix.

But at least once during each of these crazy July blizzards, Stan would see a shadow, hear _something_ in that snow… so he would stay inside.

He would shut off all his lights, and come down into the bunker to eat and sleep away the blizzard, like a hibernating bear. He could laugh about it all he liked, but something about it just felt wrong. Like the storm itself was _hungry_ …

" _ **Listen to this… 'At the height of an unprecedented period of prosperity that followed centuries of famine and bad luck, the tribe went extinct over a single night. To this day, no one knows what destroyed the Bakadewin.' It's one of the myths of Gravity Falls that was here before Gravity Falls was! But here's the important part. There were a ton of references in their culture to… "**_

 _ **Dipper lowered his voice, whispering urgently. "The**_ **wendigo** _ **."**_

Stan sat down at the control panel.

Brows furrowed, the old man opened his bookcase, pulled out Journal 1, and began to thumb through it. "If anything could do that kind of damage to dozens of people overnight, it'd have to be a supernatural thing…" he muttered. "Wendigo, wendigo… I know I've seen something like that before in here! C'mon, where are ya…?"

* * *

"Here it comes!" Wendy called.

Dipper raised his bucket, smiling brightly. "Make it rain!"

The redhead whacked a branch with the handle of her axe and sent pinecones raining down on the younger boy. Dipper dashed to and fro on the ground below, trying to catch as many as he could; however, he was catching most of them on his head. "Ow! Ouch! ACK!"

Wendy laughed and let go of her branch, landing with a heavy thud of dust under her boots. "Dude, here. Lemme help."

They two darted around, hunkered down as they picked up the scattered pine cones and put them in a bucket. Not surprisingly, there was no shortage of the spiky things in deep part of the woods, and the storm-force winds were sending new ones down every minute; the thump of pine cones hitting the ground was so frequent it sounded like footsteps at times. Meanwhile, the sky grew darker – angrier – above their heads, swollen and bruised.

Dipper glanced nervously up over their heads, holding his hat to keep it from blowing away. Lightning flickered in the belly of those dark clouds.

"H-Hey, Wendy, do you think we should head back? That storm's looking pretty close…"

Wendy looked up. "Yeah, the barometric pressure's dropping…" she observed. She tossed one last pine cone into their bucket and straightened, brushing off her hands. "Looks like it's the big wind rush before the blizzard. But sheesh, that looks like a serious—"

Her green eyes widened.

Behind Dipper, there was a flicker of motion – like someone ducking out of sight – behind a tree too thin to hide a person.

Dipper raised his eyebrows as Wendy stared, then he looked behind him. "Um… Wendy?" he repeated. He patted her sleeve – finally getting her attention – and tugged at it. "If that's true, we should get going, right?"

"…Right."

The redhead picked up the bucket in one hand and took his hand in the other. Dipper blinked in confusion as she pulled him deeper into the woods. "Wendy, the shack is the other way," he told her. "Where are you –?"

"Something's following us," Wendy whispered.

" _What_?! D-Did you see it?" Dipper hissed.

He started to turn around, but the older girl stopped him, pulling him forward. "I don't want to be caught out in a wind storm with whatever this thing is," she murmured, green eyes hard with determination. "Just act natural, and follow me."

Dipper swallowed, his eyes wide and fixed ahead. "Where are we going…?"

"A better defensive position."

All at once, a powerful gust of wind shrieked through the trees – pushing at Dipper and Wendy, yanking on their clothes – howling and battering at them like a hungry beast. Lightning flashed over the mountains and the black sky churned in the distance. The pair was forced back a step by the elements, hair whipped to a tangle in the vicious storm. "I'll explain when we get there!" Wendy yelled over the howling wind. "C'mon!"

She dropped the bucket and pulled at his hand. "We have to _move!_ "

Pine cones spilled over the ground. The gale sent them tumbling backwards at a threatening clip, bouncing off twigs and logs a dozen yards behind them as Wendy kept low to the ground. She pulled Dipper behind her, trying to break the wind for him. The younger boy tried to stay low, bobbing and weaving to avoid the merciless whip that was Wendy's braid—

And he happened to look behind him.

A dark, hazy figure stood at a distance, a single, blank eye – like a glass marble – fixed on him and Wendy. A voice rasped in his marrow, neither male or female, in a soft, sad whisper.

" _ **U o y**_ _ **… e n i m**_ _ **…?**_ "

"WENDY!" Dipper screamed. He yanked on her sleeve. The redhead turned to look – squinting in the wind – and gasped, eyes wide.

The shadow was growing… high, high above their heads…

" _ **Y h w …?**_ "

* * *

The gale outside whistled almost deafeningly around the corners of the Mystery Shack. Inside, the unearthly noise was muffled as Mabel glanced up from her work, frowning at the ceiling. "Goodness gracious, what in the name of sweet Betty Crocker is going on out there?!" she barked, putting down her glue gun.

She stalked over to the door, fairy wings and all. "Yo! Mother Nature! I have a party tomorrow and you aren't allowed to-!"

The door flew open.

CRASH!

"AHHHHHHHHH!" Mabel shrieked as she was picked up and thrown bodily across the hall, right into Soos.

"DUDE!"

 _WHAM._

* * *

Stan heard the muffled slam all the way from the basement.

"What the…?"

He marked his place in Journal 1, closed it, and made his way back upstairs.

Pushing the vending machine open, the old man was suddenly assaulted by an indoor tornado. "WHAT THE-?!" Stan barked, throwing an arm up to protect his face from flying glitter.

The windows had been blown out, broken glass scattered all over the floor, and a whirlwind of screaming wind tore through the halls of the Mystery Shack. He hurried to seal the vending machine closed – before the wind could blow it wide open – and ran from room to room, activating the emergency shutters. The stained metal barriers slid shut with a rusted _clang_. Room by room, the wind died down inside.

Breathing hard, Stan hurried back into the foyer. The front door was blown wide open, banging against the wall; he charged it with a heroic yell, slamming it closed and – with herculean effort – locking the deadbolt.

Outside, the spinning weathervane broke off. _Crack!_

It flew across the yard, its W-H-A-T symbols hurtling through the air with deadly speed. It impaled itself into the trunk of a pine tree and stuck there, quivering.

An unearthly shriek split the sky. Thunder crashed.

Lightning lit up the blackened clouds, a burning spiderweb over Wendy and Dipper's heads as they fled between the trees. Wendy could feel the storm curdling over them, dark and furious – but around them, the situation was worse. The talons of the wind hooked into their clothes and hair, ripping at them. They leapt over fallen logs and through churning dust devils. Dipper spat at the dirt in his mouth, gasping for air. All around, blank white eyes zeroed in on them. Hazy black figures sprung up left and right, growing to six, eight, ten feet tall, but always just slightly translucent.

" _ **… Y H W ?!**_ "

Unlike the towering black miasma that followed them. Over thirty feet tall… with branching horns and eyes like ice from the seventh circle of hell…

It screamed in Dipper's very marrow. Goosebumps pierced his skin like needles. It was freezing! It was ANGRY! The boy couldn't look back or he knew his knees would give out! The wind was so powerful, Wendy's vision was blurred and streaming. She could barely see where she was going…!

Through her streaming eyes, Wendy caught sight of a tall, sturdy sugar pine. In retrospect, she had no idea how she managed to spot it. But she did.

" _There!_ " Wendy yelled.

Dipper yelped as she picked him up, threw him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and sprinted for the tree. Many of its yellow-green needles had been stripped by the storm – and to an untrained eye, it looked like it was diseased – with a huge, swollen brown bulge distended from its trunk; the redhead leapt onto the first branch, and swung up to the next one. Dipper gasped and clung to her as the ground fell farther and farther away…

Wendy's heart was beating like a jackhammer as she climbed.

" _ **Look… I really don't want to lose you as a friend, Dipper…"**_

Finally, they were almost fifty feet in the air. Her fingers dug into Dipper's clothes – just as Dipper was holding the back of her jacket in a death grip – as shadows clustered at the base of the "diseased" sugar pine. They reached with translucent, dark talons. Beaks and fangs bared, their ravenous screams unaffected by the storm.

" _ **You're the coolest guy I know, and I've had more fun with you than anybody else, seriously! And I don't want to lose that. Like, ever."**_

Thunder crashed, right above their heads. _KABOOM!_

 _ **He met her eyes, looking almost relieved. "Wendy, I love you!" he declared. "And I really don't think that's going to change!"**_

 _ **Wendy's heart skipped a beat.**_

Lightning lanced through the sky _. CRASH!_

 _ **A determined light gleamed in his hard brown eyes. "But I am honestly more than happy if you just want to be my friend. I want to be your friend! I don't want to pressure you in any way."**_

Finally, Wendy found the hatch.

" _ **I just want to be here for you, no matter how I am here for you."**_

She opened a trapdoor at the bottom of the bulge, tossed Dipper inside, scrambled in after him, and slammed it closed. A shadow fell over the valley of Gravity Falls. There was an earth-shaking _THUMP_ …

Then, everything was silent.

Absolutely silent.

 **.**

 **.**

 **And so our favorite pair are forced off on their own... What chased them? What will happen back at the Mystery Shack? All excellent questions~**


	7. Winterscape

**And onward we go. By the way, just a heads up that this fic is more of an archive for the more frequent updates that will be on my tumblr. It's nothing against you guys but these ff chapters are usually cut together from 2+ tumblr updates, so they're longer. Anyway, author's informing over, let's hit chapter seven!**

* * *

 **Chapter 7:**

 **Winterscape**

The silence was a special kind… an eerie quiet that could suffocate even the sound of a pin dropping.

In nearly complete darkness, Wendy and Dipper gasped for air. The boy stared up, wide brown eyes slowly adjusting to the sudden darkness as his chest heaved. All he was sure of was that he was outside a second ago – over fifty feet above the ground, thrown over Wendy's shoulder like a sack of potatoes and wind howling in his ears – the unearthly squall of a demon screaming at their very heels. And now, the sudden silence left him feeling like he had been thrown off the sensory deep end.

Dipper swallowed, head still spinning. White, tingling spots popped in his vision. "W-Where… are we?" he gasped, trying to look around.

Wendy wheezed as she got to her feet. Her boots clunked against a cool, unpolished wooden floor. "Did I ever… Did I ever tell you… phew… that my family doesn't celebrate Christmas?"

She reached up, grabbed a string, and pulled.

There was an electric snap and a sudden, blinding light. Dipper flinched and covered his eyes.

Finally catching her breath, Wendy winced; she looked over the burning gouges in her palm, in the naked, unflattering light from a single, dust-coated industrial bulb, swinging from the ceiling. "Ow…" she hissed. "I've never climbed this tree that fast before… ow!"

The redhead flexed her fingers experimentally and – finding that it hurt worse than she'd expected – huffed. She looked around, then moved outside of Dipper's line of vision for a moment. "But yeah… every December since I was little, my dad has taken my brothers and me out on an apocalypse training trip," she told him. "Gives us a week of prep, then he hands us some water, an emergency flare, and a first aid kit and 'hunts' us in the woods for two weeks. The goal is to not get caught, or else you're 'dead.' He pulls out all the stops though, man, setting human traps, laying out food as bait, not lighting fires for himself, camouflage…"

Wendy pulled up a floorboard. Under it, blue plastic glinted in the light.

She pulled it out the package – uncaring of the dust and spider webs – and unwrapped it with her good hand. It was a first-aid kit. "It's best to just stay off the ground altogether, I found. So, when I was seven, I started building this place," she explained as she opened it up.

Meanwhile, Dipper slowly took his arms away from his face. He blinked several times, trying to help his eyes adjust… then sat up and looked around him, taking in his surroundings. They were sitting in a small treehouse – about seven feet by seven feet – with just enough space for a person Wendy's size to stand up and walk around a little. However, an entire corner of the treehouse was taken up by a pile of supplies; bug spray, matches, gloves, protein bars, water bottles in bulk, cans of beans, bags of chips, boxes of mini-doughnuts, cup ramen, a winter coat that looked a little small for Wendy, a portable space heater, a bunch of those emergency blankets that looked like tin foil, and at least five different kinds of deadly weapons.

"Wow…" Dipper breathed, impressed. "You _built_ this place?"

"Yup."

Wendy took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a cotton ball. "Took me two years to finish and stock it so my dad wouldn't find out. I even worked on it during the summers and after school some days. And even during the off season, it's a great place to just get away from it all if I just want some peace and quiet... And in _some_ cases, escaping killer shadow monsters, apparently!"

The redhead grimaced, unscrewing the cap. "Ugh, this is gonna suck…"

"O-Omigosh Wendy, you're–!"

Wendy glanced back at Dipper, who was half-standing – arms outreached as if to help, eyes wide in panic at the sight of blood – and smiled halfheartedly at him. "It's just some scrapes, dude. Don't worry. I've done this before."

She put a cotton ball over the opening and turned the whole thing upside down. "Do me a favor and put a bolt in that crossbow!"

Dipper scrambled to obey. "O-Oh, right!"

While he fumbled with the bolts, Wendy dabbed the solution over her injured hand, grimacing as the familiar, acidic sizzle of hydrogen peroxide filled the air; by the time she had wrapped up her hand, Dipper was handing her a loaded crossbow. "S-Seriously, what _were_ those things, though?" the slender twelve-year-old hissed. "Shadows? Ghosts?! The big one was talking… omigosh, how many _were_ there?! I wasn't counting! Wendy, are we trapped?! Are we gonna die up here?! I DON'T WANNA DIE!"

" _No._ "

Wendy grabbed him and looked him dead in the eyes. When she spoke, her voice came out an octave lower than it normally was. "Dipper, anything that wants to kill _you_ will have to go through _me_ ," she told him. "Got it?"

Dipper swallowed – cheeks bright pink and his big brown eyes brimming with frightened tears – but he nodded. "Got it," he replied, voice breaking.

Her green eyes hardened. "Good."

The redhead hefted her crossbow and moved to the wall, pulling Dipper with her.

The boy went willingly, keeping close to her side as she crouched, raising her crossbow. Set into the upper half of the wall was a closed window, its frame twice as deep and wide as it needed to be for a thick, heavy panel of sawed-down two-by-fours. It was sealed with rubber and designed to slide back and forth on ball bearings at the pull of a thick, worn rope. Thick enough to stop 9mm bullets and too heavy for any curious animal to easily pull open. The sugar pine branches obscured the opening from the ground, but provided Wendy with a prime sniper's view. If anyone – or any _thing_ – was at the base of their tree, she would see.

Wendy took a deep breath, gently squeezing Dipper's hand for support…

Then, she grabbed the rope, yanked the panel open with a rattle of ball bearings, and jumped to her feet. She aimed the crossbow out the window, eyes scouring the ground below…!

Wendy blinked.

The first thing that registered was that the shadows – whatever they were – had vanished without a trace. Not so much as a footprint remained to give a clue of their size, their numbers, their mass.

The second thing was the snow.

Her breath condensed into icy fog, whipped to tatters by the swift wind coming down from the mountains. The tornado-like gale had vanished now. After all, it had finished its task of funneling out every wisp of warm summer air left in the valley. And now, everything was white. The ground, the trees, the sky. Not a single inch of bark had been spared from Jack Frost's touch, ice crawling up the pine needles – like ivy – and collecting into intricate patterns even as she watched. A blanket of snow covered the forest floor and weighed down every tree branch, so fat and thick, it transformed the familiar woods into a featureless winterscape.

"Are you kidding me…?" Wendy whispered, eyes wide as she tried to recognize something through the encompassing ice. This was the heaviest summer snowpack she had ever _seen_! Which way had they even come from –?!

" _ **One time someone got caught outside during the snow drop, one super bad year, and he came back, like, a month later, half-starved, all blubbering and chewed up by wolves! It was on the front page. Apparently the cold messes up animal body clocks or something? I dunno."**_

" _ **Either way, since then, it's a superstitious death sentence if you go into the woods while the summer snowpack is on the ground. Yeah, it's intense."**_

Wendy swallowed, the blood draining from her face.

Dipper peered around her. His fist tightened on her sleeve at the sight of the frozen woods. "Wendy, is that what you were-?!"

"Yeah," the redhead replied curtly.

After a second look around, she lowered her crossbow, grabbed the rope, and dragged the panel shut. Dipper watched her as she dug into her pile of supplies; the older girl pulled out two emergency blankets and gave one to him. "W-What's this for?" he asked, examining the shiny silver sheet.

"To wrap your leftovers in. Whaddya think it's for?" Wendy muttered.

The brown-eyed boy opened his mouth as if to defend himself – then saw her hunched shoulders and closed it. "There's no need to snap at me..." Dipper informed her quietly, looking hurt.

"Look, I'm _sorry_ , okay?! I just…"

Wendy trailed off.

She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and sighed, sitting on the floor. "Sorry…"

In the light from a single, swinging bulb over their heads, the tall redhead seemed so small now.

Dipper blinked, brows furrowed with worry and lips slightly parted – like he wanted to say something, but didn't know what – then finally, closed his mouth again. He hesitated for a long moment… but then, he nodded decisively to himself.

He walked over to the older girl, chest puffed out authoritatively, and stopped before her. He sucked in a breath-!

But then Wendy looked up at him, green eyes bright with something he wasn't used to seeing there.

Worry. Fear. Confusion.

And that made Dipper hesitate.

The boy stared at her for a second, emergency blanket clasped tightly in his fist. "Wendy—"

"I'm not scared."

"That's not what I was going to say!" Dipper told her, throwing his arms up in the panic and distress he'd been trying to keep at bay. "I-I was going to say –!"

"WELL, _GOOD_!"

Wendy was suddenly on her feet, towering over him with a thunderous expression on her face. Dipper shrunk back, eyes wide as she turned away from him, pacing the tiny space like an irritated wolf. "It's a good thing you WEREN'T going to say that! Because I'm NOT!" she shot back, fists clenched. "Do you KNOW how many crazy situations I've been in before?! I fought a BEAR once and WON! I didn't even get ONE nightmare from that! NOT ONE!"

Dipper stared up at her, feeling like he'd just gotten a rug yanked out from under him. "W… What does a BEAR have to do with our current situation?!" he yelped. "What are you talking about, Wendy?!"

The boy jumped when Wendy punched the wall in frustration. _BAM!_

She rounded on him furiously. Dipper's heart jumped into his throat as those blazing green eyes met his.

"Even when we were in that bunker, do you think I was scared?!" Wendy ranted. "Huh?! DO YOU?!"

"O-Of course not! Y-You're –!"

"BECAUSE I _WAS_ , DIPPER!"

Dipper fell silent, staring up at her. Wendy let out a harsh breath, running her hands through her long red hair. There was a long moment where neither of them said anything…

Then, finally, the redhead swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I… I've learned to… to ignore my emotions in dangerous situations," Wendy confessed.

Her voice shook – ever so slightly – and that scared Dipper more than anything. "Dad says it's better, and honestly, I agree!" the redhead told him, almost like she was begging him to understand. "If I overthink a situation, fear will _paralyze_ me and I WON'T let that happen because –!"

The older girl bit her lip – holding back frustrated tears.

She looked away, glaring at a whorl in the wood grain and refusing to meet his eyes.

Dipper swallowed, his thoughts spinning a thousand miles an hour; he couldn't describe the shakiness in his knees, his _nervousness_ at hearing her talk this way! This was Wendy! This was the girl who fought a shapeshifter and won! This was the girl that constantly amazed him, with her strength and her endurance and her resourcefulness… but now, something was tearing at her. He might have had no idea what was going on in her head right then – or what that something was – but Dipper could see it in her body language, her eyes. It felt like going against the grain of all his admiration and respect for her, to pry. Still, he had to. If he didn't, then how was he supposed to know what was going on? How could he figure a way out of this if…?

If… If what?

Slender fingers gripped her sleeve again. "Wendy…?"

Startled, the redhead looked down – into big brown eyes that looked just as confused as she felt. "Talk to me," Dipper pleaded, looking up at her imploringly. "Please…?"

Wendy looked surprised by that. Just as quickly, her face fell. And for what felt like an eternity to Dipper, she didn't say anything.

Then, when she finally did break the silence… her voice was quiet.

"Okay."

The redhead took a deep breath. She met his eyes hesitantly, like she was trying to keep down a writhing ball of anxiety forming in her gut. "But… it's a long story. And you can't say anything until I'm done," she told him. "Okay?"

Without hesitation, Dipper zipped his lips shut, locked them, and threw away the key.

The older girl smiled halfheartedly at him. She sat back down, leaning her head back against the wall. She felt him sit next to her… those honest, worried eyes keen on her face. _Well…_ she thought to herself. _Time to make some more bad decisions…_

Wendy took another deep, bracing breath.

"Dipper… there's something I have to tell you."

* * *

 **.o.o.**

Meanwhile, the Mystery Shack's weathervane was still stuck in a tree. The old house was coated in the sudden frozen dump the sky had made over Gravity Falls, and not a single light was visible behind the metal storm shutters.

Stan looked at Soos. "In three, two…"

Both men plugged their ears as Mabel let out a long, horrified pterodactyl screech.

The tornado-force winds – however briefly they had torn through the Shack – had left her preparations for their would-be Christmas party in shambles. Plastic trees had toppled. Broken ornaments and window glass had burst into countless pieces all over the floor. Fake snow and still-wet paint had been knocked from various objects, leaving random splatters and dents in the walls. Wherever the sticky garlands had fallen, they were likely fixed there for good, and glitter lay in a thin blanket over the furniture, the carpet, and even the aquarium water in the sitting room, filtering down to bother Stan's good-natured axolotl. She didn't seem to mind, though; she was batting at the shiny flakes, like a cat playing with falling snow, as they slowly drifted to the bottom of her tank.

"IT'S ALL RUINED!" Mabel screamed, falling to her knees and fists upraised. "OH GREAT MOTHER NATURE, WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THY WRATH?!"

Soos lay a hand on the little girl's shoulder, sagelike. "It never does to tempt fate, Mabel."

Meanwhile, Stan walked past them, opening the door just a crack and poking his head out. The snow was thicker than he'd ever seen it, piling over the edge of the porch and covering the welcome mat. "Yeesh," he grimaced, closing it.

The old man scowled – disappointed, but not altogether surprised. "Looks like another summer blizzard tourism opportunity that'll have to go unmilked."

He slouched past Soos and Mabel. "Sorry, kiddo. Party's canceled."

The girl sat up in surprise, watching her grunkle as he crossed into the other room. "You seem surprisingly _chill_ about all this?"

"Haha! Yeah, Mabel, something like this happens every year during the summer blizzard!" Soos told her good-naturedly.

Stan rolled his eyes and began to brush glittery debris off his armchair. "Terrible puns notwithstanding, it's true. Blocked roads, frozen doors… at least the power didn't go out this time."

The lights went out.

The old man scowled. "Me and my big mouth. Soos! Check the fuse box!"

"On it! I'm also going to have to call my grandma since I'll have to stay here till the snow melts!"

Stan sighed, rubbing his face as he heard the handyman jog down the hall. Behind him, Mabel sat up, still sulking over her decorations; she dejectedly scooped up a handful of glitter and spread it back over the floorboards. He turned around – with the intention of going to the kitchen – and froze when he saw her expression, as she sadly traced idle, swirling patterns into the shiny flakes. The old man hesitated…

Mabel sighed.

A nativity donkey nudged her cheek. "Um, neigh?" Stan asked.

The girl giggled and pushed at him. "You're silly, Grunkle Stan! Donkey don't say neigh! They go EEEE HAWWWWW!" she brayed.

Both of them laughed; she accepted the little wooden sheep he gave her and clopped its hooves along the floor, Stan uncertainly playing along with his donkey as she narrated a little story about two "cute little farm animals" going home for the holidays.

* * *

Meanwhile, Soos shrugged on his spare coat, buttoned it up, and put on snow boots. "Doot doo doo~"

He opened the door, staggering a little when the howling wind pushed back against him, but he managed to shove it open, step into the snow, and close it behind him. The world was hazy with white as he walked out into the wasteland and around the shack to the breaker box, making sure to count his steps. The handyman shivered and stuck his hands in his pockets; his breath came out as frozen vapor, ripped to tatters by the wind and sleet. "Sheesh! This is a crazy storm…" he muttered to himself.

Fumbling along the wall, Soos finally located the cold steel box. "Wonder what's different about this year."

He opened the breaker box and ran his finger down the side of the switches, searching for the one that had been tripped. But there wasn't one.

Soos frowned. "Huh."

Suddenly, a cutting gale shrieked through the trees, smacking Soos into the side of the shack. "Ow!" the handyman yelped. He turned, eyes wide and hands braced against the wall – until he saw a strange silhouette through the snow. He squinted at it. After a second, he wrapped his coat tighter around himself and waddled towards it. It took almost a minute to reach it through the thick snow…

When he finally did, Soos almost tripped over it. "Whoah!"

He stumbled again, but regained his footing quickly. "Phew, okay…"

He hunched down to examine the object. Upon closer examination, he saw it was a fallen telephone pole. "Wow, haha! That'd do it!" Soos exclaimed happily, looking back at the shadow of the shack through the blizzard. "No wonder the power went out! Must've been that crazy wind!"

He smiled to himself, snuggled deeper into his coat, and turned around, counting his steps back to the porch.

Not noticing that the pole hadn't fallen. It had been sliced at the base like breakfast sausage, by claws as long as his entire arm…

* * *

 _Slam!_

Soos hung his coat up on the rack, shivering. "Brr! It's chilly out there!" he announced.

"The lights still aren't back on!" Stan called grouchily from the other room.

"Yeah, the storm knocked over a telephone pole!"

The handyman wandered back into the living room and sat down next to his boss. "Live wires are way too dangerous to deal with ourselves, Mr. Pines. We'll call the fire department once the snow melts," he said, smiling cheekily. "In the meantime, we can light the shack with candles! It could be very _romantic_ ~"

"I'm officially uncomfortable," Stan deadpanned, getting up. "Not to mention we'd set the whole place on fire."

Mabel's face lit up. "Candles?! Omigosh!"

She sprung to her feet, tugging at her great uncle's hand and bouncing excitedly. "Can we, Grunkle Stan?! It'd be so warm and nice! Pretty please with sprinkles on top~?!"

"With sprinkles on top!" Soos repeated.

Both of them stared up at him with big, pleading puppy dog eyes.

Stan hesitated…

Then, he finally gave in. "Ugh, fine!"

Soos and Mabel threw up their hands. "YAY!"

"They're in the office cabinet," Stan told them, plodding after the two as they ran excitedly out of the living room. "Funny, I never thought the leftovers from that candle-making phase would ever get used."

Mabel laughed wildly, scrambling down the hallway at top speed; she pulled ahead of Soos, skidded around the corner, rolled into the office…

And tumbled straight into a pile of loose books. "ACK!"

Soos barely managed to stop short of the mess, flailing his arms to regain his balance. "Whoah!"

He helped the girl up. Behind him, Stan walked into the room; the old man's brows shot up at the sight of Dipper's leftover notes scattered across the office. "Wow, what tornado came through here?" he muttered.

"Uggggh, Dipper…" Mabel groaned, rubbing her head…

Suddenly, she gasped. "Oh my gosh! Dipper!"

The girl whirled around in horror. "He left with Wendy right before the storm hit! They were outside!"

Stan felt like his blood had turned to ice water. Oh god.

He had seen them leave.

His great-nephew was out _there_ … in this insane, hungry storm. This phenomenon might have had something to do with a greater, sinister power, he didn't know, but he was never absolutely certain that it was natural. Not with the way the wind howled at night. He knew the way an honest Oregon winter sounded. These summer blizzards were a bastardized version of them… dark and sharp…

He went back down the hallway. "I have to go out there."

"What?!" Mabel squeaked.

She spun, dashing after her grunkle. "Then I'm coming with you!" she yelled.

"No way, kiddo."

Stan had reached the door by now; he knelt down, putting his hands on the little girl's shoulders and looking into her big, pleading brown eyes. "Trust me, Mabel, this storm is crazy," the old man told her. "Way too many people have disappeared in it over the years."

Soos looked a little scared. "Yeah, dude. My cousin once knew a guy who knew this girl, who had a boyfriend who knew somebody who disappeared in a summer blizzard. It's totally legit."

Mabel stomped her foot. "MY BROTHER IS OUT THERE! I'm not just gonna sit here!"

Stan's expression darkened. There was a moment where he didn't say anything.

Then, he straightened and pulled on his own coat. "Soos, look after her while I'm out. Don't let her leave the house."

Soos blinked in surprise, but he nodded and scooped up a screeching Mabel. "Sorry, little lady…"

"SOOS, LEMME GO! I WANNA GO LOOK FOR DIPPER TOO!"

The plump man tried to evade the worst of her tiny fists as Stan bundled up in a mismatched scarf, hat, and goggles. "It'll get dark out there soon, Mr. Pines," he said. "You know how weird the clouds are during these things. Are you sure you wanna go? I'm just as concerned as you are, don't get me wrong! Dipper's my homie! But I mean, Wendy's with him, shouldn't we wait till morning at least?"

Stan grabbed a flashlight and stuffed it in his pocket. "Soos, Wendy's got moxie but there's only so much she can do against a storm of this magnitude. Just get those candles lit, okay? Look after the Shack."

Soos saluted as well as he could with a struggling twelve-year-old tucked under his arm. "Yes sir!"

Stan opened the door. "I'll be back."

Snowflakes tumbled in on the whistling wind as he went outside, shut the door… and then it was silent.

* * *

 **.o.O.o.**

Hours passed. The temperature had plummeted into the tens when black clouds suffocated the sunlight, and was still dropping in the dark, dead twilight that had been cast over Gravity Falls. The wind still whistled – low and quiet – around the edges of the Mystery Shack, but outside the air was clear, dark, and razor sharp.

However, inside Wendy's treehouse fort, it was toasty warm. Two cans of soup – pried open with a swiss army knife – sat warming on the exposed coils of a portable heater, while the older girl and younger boy were curled up in their emergency blankets beside one another, watching their dinner in a special kind of silence.

Wendy glanced nervously sidelong at Dipper.

The happily blushing boy was biting his lip, trying to hide a giddy smile and clearly failing.

Despite her own anxiety, the sight was enough to make her grin; she turned red and buried her face in the foil, hiding her expression from Dipper. " _Stop_ that!" she complained, but any power her words might have had was moot since she couldn't stop giggling, if from nothing than the sheer ridiculousness of the situation! She had just come out and told him… well _, way_ _too much_ , and now she wasn't sure if she should feel nervous or relieved, about how a twelve-year old boy was gonna respond to her… _feelings!_ Or _whatever_ these damn things were that were making her heart beat inappropriately hard. "I wanna be hesitating about all this and you're just over there like – ahhh!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

Dipper beamed down at the floor, shyly twiddling his fingers. "I-I just… I wasn't expecting that! And now I can't stop smiling…"

Wendy pursed her lips – still trying to beat back her smirk and the butterflies in her belly – and looked up at the ceiling of her fort. She had told him everything. Well, almost everything; the way she'd realized she liked to tease him, the fact that she _knew_ it was extremely inappropriate by social standards, even all about the conversation she'd had with Tambry. She _had_ neglected to mention how her feelings were getting noticeably stronger with each day, but…

The redhead sighed, deflating slightly as she propped her elbows on her knees. "You do realize I'm still, like, super confused about all this… right?" she murmured.

Dipper blinked up at her. "Wait, why?"

Wendy grimaced, staring into the soft red-gold glow of the heating coils. "I mean… I admit I'm having some kind of weird feelings for you, but I'm still older than you – wait, no, I – that's not actually it, that's just the first thing that came out of my mouth!" she sputtered, and tried again. "What I really mean is, like, this is super new to me and there's no WAY we could actually be together in real life so – _ack!_ No! That's _not_ what I mean…"

She risked a glance at his face. Dipper's smile had faded.

The older girl groaned in distress and ran her fingers through her hair. "Dammit, I don't know, man…"

Dipper bit the inside of his cheek and looked at the heater too, visibly wilting.

Minutes ticked by in silence. This one was heavier. Wendy set her head down on her forearms, swearing internally; she didn't feel guilty or sad, she was angry! Angry at herself for not being able to articulate what the actual _hell_ she was _feeling_. She didn't want him to misunderstand and think he was somehow a problem. He was a great guy! He was adorable and smart and…

And she didn't want to say the wrong thing and hurt his heart even more than she already had. _Maybe I should have just left it alone, like Tambry told me…_ Wendy thought sadly. _Now what am I gonna do, now that it's all out there…?_

Their soup began to steam. She sighed and wrapped her hand in the emergency blanket, gripping one hot can; she gave it to Dipper, making sure he had a good hold on it before she put her own in her lap. "It's hot. Don't put your mouth right on it," she advised him.

Dipper yelped and yanked the hot can away from his burning tongue. "YEEP!"

"Omigod! You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah! I'm fine…"

He blew on it. Wendy sat up straight for a moment longer – staring at his mouth to make sure it wasn't hurt – then blinked, caught by surprise when a tiny tingle of nameless anticipation trilled at the back of her brain.

She hesitated, then sat back, trying to analyze what she'd just felt.

"So…" Dipper murmured.

Wendy glanced over at him again, all her attention focused on him. "You feel something, but you don't know what it is?" the boy asked. "And it's not about age? Or maturity?"

The redhead hesitated for a moment, then looked down at the chicken broth steaming in a can. "Well… that's just it," she admitted. "I don't know what the problem is here. It's just something, and I don't know what it is! It's frustrating. I wish I could just tell you so we could talk it out. But…"

Dipper blew slowly on his soup again. His thoughtful brown eyes were distant.

"…Okay."

Wendy raised an eyebrow at him. "'Okay?'" she repeated. "What does that mean?"

"We have time, right?" Dipper replied, trying to keep himself from stammering.

He stuck a finger into the soup; a sorry attempt to distract himself from the fact that this was _Wendy_ he was talking to. "So it's okay if you don't know right now, I guess. Just… c-could you maybe try to sorta, maybe… try to? There's no rush! I swear! But they're _your_ feelings, right? I'm just the person you're having them about… I mean, may or may _not_ be having! Them about."

The younger boy shrugged nervously, glancing at her shoulder. "Y-You should take the time you need to sort them out...?"

Dipper smiled awkwardly and turned the other way. He was sweating again. "They're important, to me too! Because, you know. I, uh, you know. Like you already. A-And if you might like me back, I want you to be sure. Because, like, why would I want you to rush _that_ decision? It's kinda important, haha…"

Wendy took his soup out of his hands.

Confused, Dipper let her, still blushing slightly from his little monologue. "Um, why'd you –?"

Wendy smiled. "So you won't spill it~"

"Why would I spill –?"

Dipper squeaked in surprise and turned bright pink, as the older girl wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. His brain stopped working for just a moment... all thoughts of wendigos and unrequited love erased in favor of analyzing the way her soft red hair felt pressed against his cheek… how her muscles felt like velvet-wrapped steel under her freckled, ivory skin… and her natural fragrance, like crushed pine needles…

He was still in a warm, wide-eyed trance when Wendy pulled back, smiling into his eyes. "Thanks, Dipper," she murmured. "Really. As soon I figure it out, I promise you'll be the first to know."

Her green eyes had flecks of gold in them. He'd never realized that. She'd never been this close to his face before, had she…?

Dipper closed his eyes and leaned forward…

Wendy blinked, glancing between his mouth and his face – then pulled back, biting back a giggle of disbelief. "Whatcha doin' there~?" she smirked.

Brown eyes flew open.

"U-Um, nothing!"

Dipper scrambled to act casual, hurriedly taking a big sip of his soup and promptly burning himself again. "OW!"

Wendy's laughter was audible even beyond the walls their warm little fort, echoing through the frozen trees as she opened the panel window, scooped some snow off the outer wall, and closed it. She returned to her little man's side to help nurse his lip – and his ego – grinning the whole time. Any of the guys she had dated before would demand to know her feelings then and there, regardless of whether she was conflicted about them or not. The fact that Dipper was more than willing to give her time to figure things out – even though he had already exposed so much of his own feelings to her already, had more to lose emotionally if Wendy didn't pan out on her end – made her feel warm all over. Kissing, though… she hadn't thought that far.

 _Well…_ she thought, smiling to herself as she urged Dipper to take a bite of snow. _Maybe someday._

 **.**

 **.**

 **Dawwww, poor Dip. Got a little ahead of yourself there, bud. But you were aware of her feelings and willingly gave her space to figure them out! +100 points! Now night is coming, and watch out Stan! Things are lurking in the night...**


	8. Her

**This is the last chapter that's part of the pretype! The rest will come when they're done. Have at it~**

* * *

 **Chapter 8:**

 **Her**

"Yes, abuelita! I'm fine. Haha! Yeah! Crazy storm this year, am I right?"

Mabel sulked in a corner, idly playing with the nativity scene animals as Soos began the same conversation again. The Mystery Shack was warm and aglow inside, every surface glowing softly with countless tiny, flickering candle flames and a fire roaring in the hearth; for once, the tv was dark, but Mabel missed the fuzzy drone of bad television. Other than Soos and the sound of the wind, it was so quiet. And he had been chatting with his grandma on his cell phone for what felt like an eternity; apparently the little old lady could spend ten minutes on a loop asking if someone was okay!

She groaned in frustration.

The girl got up, hurried into the foyer, and opened the door, trying to spot Grunkle Stan beyond the gradient of light that circled the shack. Just like the last three dozen times she had checked, there were no signs of life anywhere. Not even a squirrel.

Mabel whined and went back inside. "Dipper, where are you…?"

Suddenly – right when she was about to close the door – she heard something. It was soft, and low. Like a whispered hello.

Mabel frowned. "Huh?"

She opened the door again, scowling out into the cold, and saw only a dark shape. The girl blinked; she reached into her coat pocket, pulled out a flashlight, and turned it on.

For a second, she thought she saw a flash – like the reflection from an animal's eyes.

A woman stood on the surface of the snow. Awash in the unnatural beam from Mabel's light, her eyes were empty and glassy, almost wraithlike. Her face was timeless – fair in an icy way, lips pale and full, hollow-cheeked with a strong jaw and cheekbones that could cut – but her long, ragged black braids were threaded with white and silver. She could had been twenty years old or fifty, as far as Mabel could tell; her worn clothes were oddly mismatched, though, a hooded sweatshirt over a roughly-made deerskin skirt splattered with unidentified, long-dried fluids. But what concerned her most was that the woman's clothes, hair, even her fingertips, were actually laced with frost. Under a distinctively brown, Native American complexion, she was pale as a corpse preserved in snow.

And she could only see one of her hands poking out of the sleeves of a threadbare, oversized college sweatshirt…

Mabel's eyes went wide.

The girl threw open the door. "Hey, are you okay?!" she yelled, hurrying across the snow.

She skidded to a stop beside her. The frozen woman twitched in place, brows furrowing almost indistinguishably at the colorful little person chattering up at her. "You look like you're freezing your butt off!"

The woman looked at her, silent and unblinking.

Mabel waved her hand in front of those unseeing eyes. "Wait, are you _blind?_ Oh man, how'd you get out this far?!"

She went to grab her hand. "Come on! I'll lead you –"

The moment she touched the stranger's hand, it was as if she'd breached a halo of liquid nitrogren that hovered over her corpselike skin; the girl shivered bodily and snatched her hand back. "O-O-On s-second thought…!" she revised, feeling like every hint of warmth had just been sucked from her body. "W-Why don't you j-j-just f-follow the melodious sound of m-my voice~?"

Mabel hobbled through the snow, back towards the Shack. "C-Come on…!"

The skin around the woman's eyes tightened.

Slowly, but surely, the wind picked back up – a cutting breeze of bitter nostalgia – that fluttered her long braids and one empty sleeve. Pale eyes wandered over the Mystery Shack… down at the shivering little girl leading the way…

Then, she followed.

"M-My name's Mabel!" Mabel told her, once they'd reached the porch. "What's yours?"

She opened the door for the frozen stranger, let her in first, and followed her inside the Shack. Neglecting to notice that her footprints where the only set that had left marks in the snow.

* * *

 **.o.O.o.**

"DIPPER!"

Deep in the woods, far from the lights of civilization and black clouds obscuring the moon, the darkness was almost complete, broken only by the trembling beam of Stan's flashlight. The man shivered in a cold that penetrated him to his old, aching bones. He hadn't been able to feel his fingers for an hour.

The old man raised his voice again. "WENDY! DIPPER!"

His call echoed through the woods – but like with all the previous ones, they faded away into the night. And once again, neither his great nephew nor his lazy cashier emerged from the blackness.

"Dammit!" Stan hissed.

He kicked a tree and huffed, hugging himself as he shivered… then, a pile of snow fell on his head. _Thwomp._

Stan scowled, standing there in rigid fury for a moment. Then he glared up at the offending branch. "I-I-It has to be midnight by now…!" he muttered, teeth chattering. "Why can't I find them…?!"

The branch whispered his own call back to him. _"Wendy…! Dipper…!"_

Stan growled and shifted his coat, marching on. "Great, now nature is mocking me," he muttered. He swore quietly, brushed off his fez and shoulders, aimed his flashlight forward once more, and shuffled approximately three steps through the snow before he froze, eyes wide.

He turned – slowly – around.

Up in the shadows of the trees, two round, glassy eyes blinked down at him.

Stan swallowed, a whole new kind of chill running down his spine. "…Either you're a _really_ ugly, _really_ big raccoon, or I'm in trouble."

A scream like splitting ice ripped from its jaws. " _ **SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**_ "

"I'm in trouble!" Stan yelped.

The thing screamed and made a wild grab for him. Stan ducked the first blow, frantically trying to drag his heavy boots through the snow, but the second blow caught him sidelong and the next thing he knew, he was airborne, hurtling through the freezing night. The frost flew by, pines and snow blurring in his streaming eyes...!

His side struck the icy road first. Then his head. The old man rolled and slammed into a snowdrift.

The faint scream of the beast reached his ears… but it was far away, like he was hearing it from underwater. Stan moaned, struggling to get his arms under him to push himself up; his vision was blurry, like a smeared watercolor painting, as he tried to get his feet under him, but an impact jarred him and his shaky knees gave out again, sending him sprawling back onto the side of the road.

 _Get up, get up!_ Stan told himself, frantic.

He shook his head, clearing the blurriness from his vision just as the monster scurried – insectlike – across the snowy rise, crouched on the opposing snow bank, and sprung. Time seemed to slow down… and Stan got a glimpse of the creature, silhouetted against the sliver of a moon…

Then, there was a blazing white light, a blaring horn, and a rusty RV with a snowplow bolted to the front slammed into it.

Snow flew everywhere. The atmosphere around the impact point seemed to explode, an orb of solid wind spiraling outward and dissolving into an echoing shriek and razor-sharp, ice-flavored air in the wake of the vehicle. Stan swore the air blue and rolled away from the wheels. He pressed his back into the snowy bank, chest and shoulders heaving, white visible all around his eyes; he spotted his fez resting in the middle of the street and grabbed it.

Meanwhile, the RV had finally squealed to a stop some distance down the icy road. There was a moment of quiet when it stopped there, motionless. Stan was left in the dark.

He squinted at the distant vehicle. No doubt the passengers were debating whether it was worth it to turn around and check if he was dead.

Wheels skidded slightly on the ice as they made a three-point turn.

Apparently so.

Dark clouds covered the moon once more. Heavy flurries began to fall as the vehicle came back towards him, the oversized hood ornament occasionally grinding against the dirt road. Finally, it stopped a dozen paces from him, the doors opened, and shadows bobbed like bloated, panicked ghosts as the people inside got out. Stan shielded his eyes from the blazing high-beams, unable to see their faces against the light.

"Hey! You okay, mister?" called a young male voice.

"Oh, it's Mr. Pines!" the smallest figure exclaimed, throwing his mittened hands up. "Glad we didn't kill _him!_ "

"You okay, sir?" another, deeper voice asked dully.

Stan perched his fez back on his head and slapped the snow off of his shoulders. One of the backlit figures offered him a hand up. Miffed though he was, the old man huffed and accepted it; he got back to his feet, swatting more snow off his bum, and glanced up at his questionable rescuers.

It was none other than Manly Dan Corduroy and his three boys. Dressed in arctic camouflage and armed to the teeth, the family of redheads was a sight to behold in the glow of headlights and falling snow. Dan and his oldest son – a hulking fourteen-year-old with peach fuzz, what was his name, Dan Junior or something? – carried rifles over their shoulders that were bigger than Mabel was tall, ice already catching in their excessive amounts of bright copper hair. A huge bag, undoubtedly stuffed with more guns and ammo, was slung across Dan's back. The big lumberjack's hand rested on the second eldest's shoulder, who was watching his own breath transform into icy plumes and fly away on the wind like smoke. The youngest boy – a youth with an overgrown crew cut, who had yet to lose all of his baby fat – bounced excitedly with the boundless energy that only kids under ten had.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Stan snapped, wishing that the kid would stand still. "Despite you people almost runnin' me over!"

He peered around them at the RV, half-expecting to see that skeletal, veiny monstrosity splattered on the Corduroy's snowplow. But there wasn't so much as a scratch on the steel. "The hell was that thing? Where'd it go?"

The second youngest Corduroy frowned. "What thing?" he asked.

"We – We ran over a pothole! Right, dad?! Dad?! It was a big pothole! But, but then we saw you, Mr. Pines, and we thought we'd run you over! I'm glad we didn't though, cuz then Wendy would be out of a job! Hahaha!"

Dan covered his smallest boy's mouth. "RANDY, RESPECT THE INJURED ELDER!" he declared in a rough, blaring voice.

Stan scowled indignantly. "Hey! I ain't injured, I just wanna know what the hell just –!"

Dan scooped the old man up. "WHOAH! HEY! PUT ME DOWN!" he barked, struggling as he was thrown over a hard shoulder and toted back towards the RV like a sack of potatoes. The Corduroy boys glanced at each other, shrugged, and followed their dad.

Heat blasted through the vents as Stan found himself plopped down in the backseat. In an instant, all the Corduroy's had jumped in, secured their seat belts, and then Manly Dan was slamming down on the gas. The chained tires squealed against the ice, and they were off. Empty cans, used tissues, and takeout boxes went flying past his ankles. Stan gripped the frayed seat for dear life. "Dear sweet eggs and bacon!" he yelped. "Wouldja slow down?! What are you people even doing out here?!"

"ANDY! CHECK HIM FOR TRAUMA!"

"'Kay!" the second youngest chirped. He rummaged in a plastic grocery bag hung on the back of the seat and pulled out a mini-flashlight, trying to shine it in Stan's eyes. "Here, lemme check your pupils!"

"Will you just –!"

Stan snatched the flashlight, pointed it into the boy's face until he squirmed, then tossed it in the back. The redhead went to fetch it. "Look, I appreciate what you're tryin' to do for me here, I really do!" the old man told Dan. "But you're probably out here coming to pick up Wendy, right?"

"Affirmative," the oldest Corduroy boy said, dull but eloquent. "During a crisis, getting the clan together is priority number one."

"That's my boy!" Dan enthused, clapping Dan Jr. on the shoulder.

Stan huffed. "Well, Wendy's not at the Shack!"

"What?!" Randy demanded.

Andy came back with the flashlight, frowning. "Then where is she?"

"She went out to the woods with my great-nephew, Dipper, just before the snowpack fell like an icy turd from heaven. They're both still out here as far as I know! I need to find them!" pleaded the owner of the Mystery Shack. "You guys are crazy survivalists, right? Help me!"

Dan Jr. shook his head, red bangs swishing over his eyes. "Negative."

"Wasn't askin' you, kid! Dan?"

"No, Dan's right!" the Corduroy dad replied.

"Which Dan?"

"That Dan!"

"What Dan?'

" _Me_ Dan," the biggest boy insisted, raising his rifle a little. "It's negative ten out there and still droppin', fixin' to be the worst summer blizzard since the first one in the late seventies. You're not equipped to handle that kinda temperature. Plus, traveling at night invites bears, hide-behinds, and other weird and dangerous creatures."

"First thing Wendy's gonna do is find shelter, then get armed!" Andy said. He was about to try and point the flashlight back into his face again, but the look Stan gave him made him – rather wisely – decide not to. He lowered it sheepishly. "She's even better than us at this kinda stuff. Don't tell her I said that though."

"Your great nephew's in good hands!" Manly Dan declared. "We'll take you back to the Mystery Shack!"

"Wendy can make an igloo!" Randy enthused. He tugged at the old man's coat sleeve. "Hey, I can fit my whole fist in my mouth, you wanna see?!"

Stan glanced down in mild disgust as the little boy didn't even waist for an answer, just pulled off his mitten and started stuffing his fingers into his mouth. He grimaced as Andy halfheartedly tried to check his pupil dilation again, Dan Jr. turned on the radio – trying to get to a station that wasn't completely static – and Manly Dan burst out into a folksy rendition of ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. The RV coughed and bounced along under them as its rattling snowplow forced the drifts out of their way. That engine did _not_ sound good, either.

 _Oh boy…_

Not too surprisingly, Stan had walked quite a distance into the woods, almost completely to the lake. The drive to the Mystery Shack took twice the time it normally did, snow impeding their way and extending his Corduroy experience to a little more than half an hour. By the time he spotted the familiar building's silhouette in the storm, it was a serious tossup whether he was grateful the RV had picked him up or if he would have rather walked in negative-fifteen weather. The digital car clock blinked at 1:30 AM on the dot.

"Awwww, we're already here?" Randy complained. Stan hurriedly disentangled the boy's sticky hands from his coat and scrambled out of the RV.

The wind hit him like a wall, nearly knocking him into the snow. Stan hissed in pain as the cold stabbed into his bones like needles; the ice in the air was fine and cutting, slicing at his unprotected cheeks as he got up, struggling towards the porch. Behind him, the RV's engine cut off, doors slammed, and the headlights turned off, leaving them in total blackness for a moment. The Corduroys tromped around him, flashlights blazing into the haze of whipping snow; Manly Dan scooped his two smallest sons out of the snow, putting them on his shoulders like they weighed no more than paper mâché, and carried them to the door, picking up Stan and tucking him under his arm along the way. "HEY!" Stan barked.

The huge lumberjack pulled out a magnum.

"Whoah, whoah! Okay, calm down— _ack!_ "

Manly Dan ducked under the porch roof, pressing his back against the frost-covered wall. He waved to Dan Jr. The bigger boy took his position on the other side, rifle at the ready, as his father set his younger brothers down on the ground. Andy pulled out a child-sized crossbow, Randy a small tranquilizer gun, and moved instantly into formation.

Dan held up his hand, listening close to the door… then closed it into a fist and punched down the door.

 _CRASH!_

The Corduroys burst into the Mystery Shack like a family of Bruce Willises, pointing their weapons at anything that moved and practically scaring Soos out of his fluffy maroon bathrobe and slippers. "Holy sassafras!" the pudgy man yelped, dropping his hot chocolate.

The handyman found himself looking down the barrel of a tranquilizer gun. "Spread 'em!" Andy demanded, his little face surprisingly fierce.

Soos nodded hurriedly and obeyed. "Yes, sir!"

"Do you Corduroys have no sense of the words 'chill out?!'" Stan barked. He squeezed in past Manly Dan's hulking form and picked up the front door, trying to fit it back into its frame while Andy patted the plump handyman down for anything potentially deadly. "He's my employee! I swear, all your ability to relax got leeched out of you and put into Wendy! Ugh! Soos, come fix the front door!"

Soos ran to get his tools. "Yes, sir!"

"And you four!" Stan went on, pointing at the family of redheads. "Just, I don't know… take a section of floor! Since you rescued me I won't make ya sleep in your RV out in the storm, but this ain't an act of kindness or nothin'! It's just so I don't owe you anything!"

The Corduroys glanced at each other, then shrugged and went off in a small herd deeper into the house. The proprietor of the Mystery Shack scowled, closely surveying them as they unloaded their packs and started to set up a tent in the living room.

Randy came up to him with a can of beans. "Do you have a stove?" the little boy asked.

"In the kitchen. Where else?" Stan grouched, jerking a thumb towards it.

The tiny redhead smiled and pattered off down the hall, passing Soos on his way back to the front door. The handyman glanced after him, then continued into the foyer, taking a place by Stan. "Uh, Mr. Pines? What's Wendy's family doing here?" he asked.

"They nearly ran me over, then gave me a lift back to the Shack against my will," Stan replied, huffing grouchily. He folded his arms over his barrel chest; geez, those Corduroys could put up a tent in record time. Another ginger boy bustled past them with an armful of cans. "To be honest, it was probably for the best. I can get a fresh start in the morning. Hopefully they can help me find Dipper."

"Wait… so you didn't find him?" Soos exclaimed in disbelief, like it should have been impossible for Stan to do anything but succeed.

"Oh, yeah, I found him. Dipper's just hanging out in the lumber-stein mobile out there. _No!_ I didn't find him!"

The old man groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I just have to trust that Wendy's taking care of him for tonight, I guess…" he muttered. He rubbed his tired, stinging eyes, then started to pull off his colorful knit mittens. "If we find them and they're both alright, that girl's getting a raise. Hold me to that, Soos!"

"Sure! And can I just say, I think it's really sweet that you're worried about Dipper!"

Soos smiled happily into the older man's eyes, practically beaming. "Normally you pretend you don't really care~"

"Is that my bathrobe?" Stan deadpanned.

"Uhh…"

The old man shed his coat. "Never mind, I don't want to know," he muttered. "Just fix the door before we all freeze to death, will ya?"

Stan hung his cold, damp fez on the coatrack and groaned, bracing his aching back as he hobbled down the hall. "Where's Mabel? How'd she do?" he asked.

Soos hesitated. "She crashed a couple hours ago. But um… Mr. Pines?"

Something in the man's voice made Stan turn around. "What?"

The handyman fretted silently, glancing down the hall. Into the darkness where the chill seemed to be unbreakable. "There's something you should probably know," the plump man told him nervously. "Mabel brought in… a _lady_."

Stan frowned. "A lady?"

"Yeah. But… I got some really weird vibes from her. Homegirl's wack, dawg. I swear, her eyes are dead. Just like…"

Soos stared at him with a zombie face. A full ten seconds passed in awkward silence.

Stan was just starting to get uncomfortable when his handyman held up his hands, made an accentuating gesture around his face, and furrowed his brow intensely. " _Dead_ ," he insisted.

He pointed down the hall. "You know that new room I found earlier this summer? She went in there _hours_ ago. And she still hasn't come out…"

The old man's brows came together in a thunderous expression. "Do you think she's dangerous?"

Soos hesitated again, looking unsure. "I… don't know. She just felt… unstable. And god, the temperature just drops like a rock when she passes you! Could've been me, maybe. I don't know. Mabel just got really sleepy once she brought her inside and so I tucked her in but… that lady was just… she didn't like me! It was like I was the plague and I wasn't trying to be invasive, asking her name, but…!"

"Okay, okay, okay. I'll take care of it, Soos," Stan reassured him.

He patted the man's meaty shoulder and walked down the hallway, into the dark. "Just fix the door. Okay?"

Soos nodded. "Okay… Be careful, Mr. Pines!"

"Hey, you're talkin' to Stanford 'Smooth' Pines! I don't need to be careful! I'm an old master with the ladies!" the old man grinned, spreading his arms in the picture of confidence. "Have some faith in me!"

The handyman beamed and nodded, buying it easily. "Yes, sir!" he enthused. "Knock her out!"

Stan waited until he had picked up his tools and walked out of sight. Then, he sighed wearily and walked down the hall to his brother's old room. Hopefully he could persuade the woman to leave, or at least promise to leave in the morning. The Corduroys in his living room were bad enough. Having a stranger in this house, with Mabel and Soos? That wasn't safe. He wouldn't have it. He needed his family to be safe…

Suddenly, something moved in his peripherals. Startled, Stan glanced down.

He could see his own breath.

He shivered, rubbing his shoulders. In the matter of fifteen steps from the foyer, the air had gone from having an ambient chill to a cutting, unnatural cold. Had the initial windstorm blown a hole in the side of the Shack? Had he missed a set of shutters?

Finally, he caught sight of the door and stopped.

A layer of steaming, pure white permafrost completely covered the door to his brother's study.

Stan swallowed, eyes wide. A chill rippled up his spine, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with the unnatural cold that poured off that door. The stranger was in there…? That couldn't be good…

Not if she was human…

The old man swallowed, then stepped up to the door.

" _ **I got some really weird vibes from her. Homegirl's wack, dawg. I swear, her eyes are dead. Just like…"**_

The knob turned with a crunch.

Stan pushed open the door. Hinges crackled as the ice gave way, revealing the inside of his brother's study.

" _ **Dead."**_

The air rolled over him, stiff and heavy and razor sharp, so cold that it was like trying to breathe in a pan of razor blades. Stan made a sound he had never heard come out of his own body – a whimper, even though later, he would deny it to the last fiber of his being – and covered his nose and mouth, shying away from the chill. He couldn't even look into the study. The freezing air made his eyes water. His nose was dripping in seconds, the stuff hardening in a few more.

Rolling, bulging blue eyes – blind with cataracts – focused on him.

There was a moment of silence, where the only sound was Stan's heaving, shuddering breathing and the slow crackle of permafrost.

Freezing, burning, tingling fingertips brushed over his shoulders. Stan jumped so hard he hit the wall, his tearing eyes flying wide. The hot liquid froze at the corners of his very eyes as he looked upon the woman.

Pale, fluttering white hair and skin crusty with ice. Her face crowned – no, fused – with the pure, white skull of no beast he had ever seen in the natural world, with arching horns, short, jagged fangs. A hooked beak made for tearing. Too many teeth to count at a glance. His world grew hazy and cold as her eyes, framed by long, frosted lashes, and in that moment, Stan felt the same instinctual fear of a deer staring down the barrel of a hunter's rifle.

The female creature cocked her head at him. The old man swallowed, shivering madly from both the chill and his own raw, inexplicable terror… but he didn't run. He rubbed the reddened, chapped skin of his shoulders – frostbite, shaped like a gentle touch – and stared back.

"W-W-Who a-are you…?" Stan whispered.

He flinched, wincing back as her clawed hands lunged at his throat.

But they never connected. He hesitated, shrunk against the wall, and pried open one eye to look at her again…

The monster was looking at him with an expression as close to… _sad_ , as it could. Slowly, her long white claws – set in blackened, bloody cuticles – lowered.

The permafrost cracked across her face and dissolved like a layer of dust, pattering onto the floor and vaporizing before it could stain the wood; behind her, Stan watched the same thing happen to the study, leaving it a bit chilled, but just as it was before.

Standing before him was a young, brown-skinned Native American woman with clear, intelligent eyes as blue as a winter sky. The air around her was still cold, but it was bearable now. She couldn't have been older than Wendy. Fifteen or sixteen, at most, wrapped in a bloodstained deerskin skirt and a worn-out, threadbare old college sweatshirt, with one empty sleeve. The smaller letters were corroded beyond repair by the elements, but Stan could just make out few things; a B, a U, and a year. 1968.

She shrunk on herself, her face numb and full of despair. The fingers of her single hand worried at the edge of her empty sleeve; each bone in her hand was visibly prominent, it was so thin, and if that was any indication for the rest of her body, she was so close to starvation she shouldn't have been able to stand. Her youthful features were etched with pain lines.

Even though he was still shaken from what she had been a moment before, Stan found himself reaching out to comfort her. "H-Hey…"

Her eyes snapped to his face.

Stan froze. They stayed like that for a long, tense moment.

Then, the old man swallowed and tried again, moving slow as molasses. The girl was unnaturally still, her face blank, but her eyes tracked his hand far too closely as it moved towards her shoulder.

After what felt like an eternity, Stan finally felt his fingers make contact. The sweatshirt felt surprisingly normal, if thin. Her skin was like packed snow under the weathered material; freezing and hard, but with a significant give. Fragile, in a way.

Stan gripped her cold, thin shoulder experimentally. Her face was almost dazed by the touch. All the tension drained out of her body, leaving her bony hand to swing listlessly at her side.

The old man held in a sigh of relief. "So… you okay?" he asked quietly.

Her young blue eyes moved slightly, wandering up his chest, to his face. She was silent… but a moment later, her full, but dry lips curved up. A tiny smile. Her hand moved up to cover his, skeletal fingers clenching over his with possessive, superhuman strength that made his joints creak; Stan flinched, unnerved by her jerky, insectlike movements, but he managed to keep it under control. Her veins were all blue, strangely thick, and they pulsed, like his own old, swollen veins. "Haha… yeah. Okay…"

She gazed up at him, her soft smile even more apparent now, and – without a flash, bang, or warning of any kind – she disappeared.

Stan snatched his hand back, heart beating like a jackhammer. That sensation of freezing flesh under thin fabric wasn't gone, nor the sense that he was being closely watched. It lingered on his face and his throat, the back of his neck, the sensitive skin behind every one of his joints; he looked around in a panic, suddenly jumpy, and took off back down the hall. He ignored Soos and took the stairs two at a time, his aching back forgotten.

He slammed open the door to the twins' room.

It was warm. Mabel's soft, sleeping breaths filled the air. He could barely see her shoulder over the many blankets Soos had undoubtedly piled over her, the whole mound slowly moving in her slumber. A relieved wheeze escaped Stan's heaving chest.

The old man shuffled over to her bedside and got down on his knees, biting back a groan, but smiled and patted her tangled hair.

Mabel grunted, muttered something about Dipper in her sleep, and turned over.

Anger roiled in the air beside him. The sensation in his hand grew uncomfortably cold, freezing and tingling and burning. Stan snatched his hand away from his great-niece's head, staring warily around for the danger.

Nothing was there that he could see. But he could feel her.

"Grunkle Stan…?"

The old man jumped again. "AH!"

He rounded towards the voice, fists clenched and ready to throw a punch, only to see Mabel. He quickly put his hands down, hoping she hadn't noticed.

The little girl yawned sleepily and rubbed her eyes. "Did you find Dipper…?" she mumbled.

Her great uncle hesitated, feeling that anger beside him surge again…

Stan steeled himself, and made a decision.

"No."

He feigned a smile and stroked her hair, reassuring. "But guess what?" he whispered. "Wendy's dad and brothers are here. They're camping out downstairs. And tomorrow, you and Soos and the Corduroys are all gonna go looking for Dipper. It'll be an adventure!"

Mabel's sleepy face brightened. "Reeeeeally…?"

"Yeah, really~"

Stan booped her nose with a finger, making the sleepy girl giggle. "Now go to sleep. You need your rest. Big day tomorrow."

"Okayyyyyyy…"

His great niece nuzzled back into her pillow, smiling as she dozed. Stan couldn't help but melt a little inside; he placed an affectionate kiss on her head, and stood, making his way back to the door. The Mystery Shack wasn't safe for Mabel. It wasn't safe for any of them, not while this… thing was in here. But he had Ford's journals. Maybe he could find something in them about whatever creature it was – no, no "maybes" about it. He _would_ find out what it was. He _would_ find out its weakness. He _would_ banish it before they returned, and make it safe for everyone by the time they got back. The Corduroys were a little psycho, but he could trust Soos with Mabel.

Stan paused by the door, looking back at his little great niece. Everything would be okay…

"Mmmm… Grunkle Stan?"

Mabel stirred and sat up. "There's a lady downstairs…" she mumbled, yawning. "She said she was looking for you…"

 _She 'said' something to –?!_

"Oh. Um… yes, we met. S-Sweetie, uh…"

Stan coughed and tried again. "Did you, I mean, get a name from her?" he asked.

"Yeah~! 'Course I did…"

Mabel gave him a sleepy little smile. "Her name's Matsuwa…" she told him. "It's a pretty name, isn't it…?"

The air around Stan dropped a few degrees.

The old man flexed his hand, feeling the cold bite into it where he had touched the creature. "Yeah! Pretty name," he murmured, faking a smile. "You go to sleep now, Mabel. Good night."

The little girl blew him a kiss and collapsed onto her pillow, asleep in seconds.

Stan closed the door, feeling like his blood had turned to ice water. It was going to be another one of those sleepless nights…

* * *

 **.o.O.o.**

Morning dawned bright, blinding, and very, very cold. Ice fractals had splintered over the trees and the lake overnight, leaving tiny jagged icicles no bigger than needles sticking out every which way. The snow had stopped falling. Only a cloudy sky that glowed such a bright white-grey that it hurt to look directly at the sky, or even the snowpack. It was approximately ten degrees above zero, and a layer of frost covered everything.

Meanwhile, in their little shelter, Wendy woke up slowly – her breath freezing into an icy fog on her chapped lips and a warm, slender boy snuggled in her arms.

The redhead blinked her eyes open, flinching slightly when a sliver of light shone between the boards and right into her face. Swearing quietly as not to wake Dipper, she disentangled herself from his clinging arms and got up, stepping over the still-warm space heater; it must have run out of battery sometime in the wee hours of the morning. She picked up a pack from her pile of supplies and started stuffing it with cans, batteries, hot water bottles, drinking water, and blankets. It was less than half a day's walk to her house, even in the snow. Once she got Dipper to the Corduroy clan, they could tell her dad and her brothers what'd they'd seen and form a defensive strategy against the shadows, should they attack again.

Wendy picked up an axe and strapped it to the side of the pack, her green eyes hard. If anything tried to hurt her little man, she'd put a hole in its head.

She dropped the pack in the corner and went to open the window. She needed to get a lay of the land–

 _Whump._

"Mmmmm…!"

The redhead stiffened, going still at Dipper's sleepy mumble of complaint, and glanced back at him. His squishy cheeks were pink from the cold, little button nose screwed up in discomfort as he pulled deeper into his sweater. His pine tree hat was dislodged, half falling off his soft, fluffy brown locks.

Wendy gazed at him for a moment… then, she just smiled, letting herself feel the little swarm of butterflies that erupted in her belly at the sight. Hopefully, by that afternoon, they would be in a safe, warm place. And she would do her best to get him there.

Then, maybe, they could figure all this "arguably mutual feelings" mess out.

She sighed, grabbed the rope, yanked open the window in a swirl of dislodged frost…

And a gigantic, veiny eyeball stared back at her.

 **.**

 **Lots of pictures pre-drawn for this chapter! Probably cuz I felt lazy for the past few. See ya soon! And of course… *coughs and squints loudly at the Review box below***

 _art/TLW-Chapter-8-Woman-in-the-Snow-591333943  
_ _art/TLW-Chapter-8-A-Really-Ugly-REALLY-Big-Raccoon-591332702  
_ _art/TLW-Chapter-8-The-Corduroy-Clan-591333517  
_ _art/TLW-Chapter-8-Sleepy-Dipper-591334204_


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